I Have No House And I Must Scream
by Kami-Inu
Summary: AU. Uraraka is a struggling waitress, trying to protect what she loves. But during a random battle, everything is torn away. Stubborn hero Bakugou won't apologize. His comrade Kirishima offers an unconventional solution: work part-time at their agency for an extra paycheck, while staying with them temporarily. However, can she keep up without a Quirk of her own?
1. Serve The Servants

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku No Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the original artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

Sunrises truly were a thing of beauty. Being awake long before the rest of anybody, watching the sky gradually change colors in a spectrum of pastel hues, as the streams of light continued to rise and stretch across the endless expanse. Perhaps they were best enjoyed with a simple but nourishing breakfast, and a fresh, warm cup of coffee. The mixed aroma in the morning air was a nice way to welcome the day.

...at least, if you weren't already worn out from waking up and remembering instantly where the dawning sun would take you; a destination, permanently mapped out and etched in your groggy mind, inescapable like a maximum security prison. Especially made obvious when you hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, when your 'day' had effectively ended at around one or two o'clock in the early a.m. hours. Then, the sunrise represented nothing more than the inevitable march to a willingly imposed doom:

A job, at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant plus bar, that didn't pay much and whose owner quite clearly looked down on you and hated your guts. It kept you on your feet from opening until nearly closing, and you were forced to work there six days a week. Even then, the pay was lousy, being only just enough for you to scrape by and manage the bills...which had slowly seemed to be increasing steadily. Hence the long hours and stuffed schedule.

But, out of all the places you'd looked into or applied for employment, in three, four months, even half a year's time or longer...they were the only ones who'd responded back to you. That was about six years ago. They were willing to give you the go-ahead to add on to your shift schedule too, instead of having to look for a second job, and potentially spend another few months in work hunting limbo-hell. It sucked, sure, but it was better than being hungry and homeless.

And, more than anything else in the world, you couldn't afford to lose your home. It was all you had left. Of the past, of your hope...of _**them**_.

Such was the position that twenty-four year old Uraraka Ochako found herself in: staring vacantly out of a smudged glass window, two bowls before her on the cluttered dining table and a mug of caffeine in her hand. Outside, the soft twittering of birds could be picked up in her tired hearing, as they nestled among the high treetops that surrounded her property. Before her, a bowl of buttered rice was half-empty, while her instant noodle cup was just about gone, only a few sparse pieces, garnishes and dregs of broth lingering at the bottom. The coffee in her droopy grip was her second cup of the day, but it had gone cold a while ago.

This was her life, her existence. Had been since she was eighteen. Over time, she'd grown used to it; almost entirely numb, even. Almost. That didn't mean that she looked forward to each new day with a smile on her face, as warm and bright as the sun itself. No, that smile came for later, once she'd finished getting ready, and had locked the door behind her, before making her way to the train station. Don't let them see you sweat, isn't that what they'd say? Fake it until you make it?

Maybe, if she knew what exactly 'it' was that she was striving for.

Every morning, like clockwork, no matter how few hours she'd slept – and it usually was few, even more so last night – she'd wake up to her alarm, set for five-thirty and blaring with the shrillest, most annoying tone she'd been able to find on her phone.

Many times, she'd been sorely tempted to just throw the darn thing across the room, say "Screw it", and grab another couple hours of sleep...but she knew, deep down, that she couldn't do it. She didn't have it in her to make herself deliberately late. More to the point, the few times in the beginning when she'd been late on accident, her boss had made sure she'd suffered for it later. Both workload-wise, and in regards to her paycheck. Ultimately, the cost of skipping out, even by just a few minutes, was nowhere near enough worth the risk for her.

A strand of loose, shoulder-length brown hair fell in front of her eyes, but it was only when it started tickling her nose and chin that she bothered doing anything about it – which was to simply blow it away from her vision. Of course, it fell right back down, earning a huff and a pout from the groggy brunette. Oh well. She still had to get ready, so once she'd finished smoothing it all out, it should stay in place. Hopefully.

Usually, her bed-head was manageable after a few good sweep-throughs of the brush, but it would be just her luck if today was the day that a stubborn piece decided to take front and center stage. She was still drained from the activities of yesterday.

Finally, she brought the cup of chilled brew to her lips, instantly making a face at its temperature and the fact that all the sweetness seemed to have been sucked down to the very bottom in one thick clump. However, she'd been the one who'd prepared the cup in the first place, and she couldn't stand unsweetened coffee. It just wasn't her. No matter her stress levels, she wasn't bitter. Or, at the very least, she tried her best not to be.

Besides, she was most likely going to prep a third one after this, so if anything, she could wash it out and attempt to ease up a bit on the milk and sugar? And finish it promptly before the additions had a chance to sink and settle. Yeah, that sounded good.

After another few minutes at the table, Uraraka was done with her meal, and took the dishes to the sink. The chopsticks and rice bowl went in, while the styrofoam cup was chucked cleanly into the nearby trash can. It was getting full; she needed to remember to take it out later. There was still a little room left, so it could wait until tonight. Grabbing her third cup of fuel, she proceeded to season it as always, and headed back to her place at the table. Once it was gone, then she'd go and wash everything.

Dragging her gaze away from the lightening skyline, Uraraka allowed her eyes to wander over the mess that took up half of the old table, where she and her parents had enjoyed many a breakfast together how many years ago, in this home the pair had built out of love, sweat, and their own hands. The lacy off-pink tablecloth was barely visible under the books, printer-copier-scanner, her laptop, a bunch of unlined paper, old newspapers, and multiple opened letters. Most of them were from the bank, detailing her balance for each month, or bills, for everything that the house required to run. Electric, water, internet, and phone, for starters.

Lastly, there were all the grocery receipts, showcasing just how much food she had to buy regularly – because with her meager earnings and most of it going towards the household, she couldn't afford to stock up on big portions. There were a good handful of times where she'd forgone the market entirely, to instead fill up at the local convenience store.

The bottom line was, Uraraka didn't have the greatest, healthiest diet out there. It also didn't help that, even with a working stove and oven, she still wasn't much of a cook. Most of her food went straight into the microwave, or at the very least, was boiled in water. Not all her noodles came in pre-packaged cups, but that wasn't really saying a lot.

Her stare continued to drift over the scenery, the layout of the house she'd called home for as long as she'd been alive. Even with the mess and aging, it was still beautiful to her. The pale cream yellow walls, with various photographs tacked up onto the plaster. Mostly frames with multiple spaces, so each one had about ten different smaller shots stuffed inside. Memory after memory could be found here: her parents getting married, Uraraka being brought home as a newborn, the start of their construction company and the progress of this very house being built. A few holiday get-togethers with family, relatives she hadn't seen in years...or at least, since...

There were other cherished moments on display as well, like Uraraka's first day at school, or various birthday celebrations. There were a couple photos of the day her parents had renewed their wedding vows, when she'd been ten. A memorable trip to the zoo, when they'd been caught up in a crowd around an open-top exhibition. Funny story, that. If it hadn't been for her Father's 'skills', she might've fallen right in. A handful of other pieces in time, like losing her first tooth, cutting her hair short, going from elementary to middle school, then middle to high, and finally graduating there. That had been six years ago now...

The hardwood floors were a comforting, natural shade of brown. They weren't as glossy as they once were, but they remained sturdy. A few chips and cracks hid up in the higher corners; being involved in construction, her Father had intended to patch them up eventually, but...'eventually' had never come. It was okay though; in Uraraka's opinion, they added charm, showing that the house was homemade and well-lived in. The couch was a little battered and faded, but it still held the weight of however many people sat on it at a time. Before, it had been the three of them - when her Father hadn't been sprawled out on the floor in front of the low table, that was.

Following some further silent musings and appraisals, Uraraka finished her third coffee, and headed to the sink to clean up. It was almost seven a.m by this point, and she had to be out of the house soon. The manager, a.k.a her boss, would arrive there first; it was on him to unlock the doors. But although the restaurant officially opened at nine a.m, the servers had to be early to help set up. A bit of cleaning, resetting the chairs, counting and placing the silverware – stuff like that.

The kitchen staff would show up shortly after, to prep the necessary food stock and make sure it and the equipment were up to par for the day's work. Even then, the waiters were still obligated to provide their share of the heavy physical duties; the owner considered it beneath himself to engage in such activities. And whoever had last call after dinner rush would take the responsibility of showing up early with the boss, even sooner than she already did.

There had been a handful of instances though, when Uraraka somehow wound up being the final face trooping out the door. Amazingly, last night hadn't been one of them. But in return, her train had been halted due to a commotion, so she'd had to take a different line, which required two stopovers to switch, before heading home.

That wasn't the point here. When she'd had to assist in opening up the following day, it had been at a rushed, breakneck pace, because for whatever reason, waking up an hour sooner was something her body couldn't handle. She'd managed to get things going, but her boss had been sure to point out half a dozen things she'd missed or messed up on.

All she'd been able to do was bow her head repeatedly, and offer out the same soft apologies. It was never good enough. Eventually, he'd head off to his quarters in the back, but the damage had been done: Uraraka was on edge and paranoid the rest of her shift.

The rest of the staff were privy to the unhealthy relationship between the two of them, many having witnessed it for themselves on multiple occasions. She'd even talked about her gripes, once in a great while, to a few of the employees she was close to. They commiserated, but all they could offer was the advice to not let it get to her, and make him eat his words with her work ethic and continued steady performance.

Sometimes, Uraraka couldn't tell if he was really the one at fault, or if it was her. A good portion of why he disliked her so much was based on a certain 'quality' that she lacked, but everyone else had. And it had nothing to do with drive or personality. It was something she couldn't control – hadn't been able to control since she'd first learned her diagnosis as a child. Maybe, just maybe, if she hadn't been born so... _flawed_ , he wouldn't have hated her so much.

Or, even better, she could've gotten nicer job opportunities, where she'd have been more useful than just the most basic of labor.

All around this world, was an existence like that of a comic book: many, many years ago, strange events had begun happening all over, with the birth of a glowing child. After that, more people were beginning to display and develop bizarre abilities, from flight to laser vision, shape-shifting, super strength – the stuff of heroes. Things that had originally been thought of as nothing more than imagination, yet here they were, on display in real life. Eventually, it was far more 'normal' for people to be born with these abilities than without.

They grew to be known as 'Quirks', and were highly prized. Sometimes they were simple, other times they were more dramatic. Ultimately though, they all bore their own use. They changed the quality of life to the point that soon, those with Quirks were able to work on their own merit, as 'Heroes'. Yes, heroism became a legitimate profession. There were even schools, high-ranking academies all across the globe, to train youths on how to use their powers properly, and eventually join the rest as shining stars in their own right, protecting the populace in a way that regular forces couldn't. One of the most well-known was even situated in Japan, UA, or 'Yuuei', as it was pronounced.

Even without becoming a hero though, those with Quirks could be quite useful to whatever career they wound up in. Any business would be happy to have a wide range of individuals with their own unique powers. They were more than just helpful in general job duties, they could even attract customers and attention. This was where Uraraka, in her honest opinion, 'failed', no matter how wide she stretched her smile.

She'd been born without a Quirk. And, during her childhood, she'd been told by her doctor after an exam, to see why she hadn't yet shown signs of having one:

Her body was missing the necessary trait for Quirks to grow. Both of her parents had Quirks: her Mother had a superior cooking prowess and intellect for said subject, able to make full meals out of sparse or unconventional ingredients. Her mind worked to process various methods of preparing the food for maximum value and health – she could even take things like poisonous plants, and find a way to drain out the toxins before turning them into something edible. She just couldn't always guarantee the taste, even if they were nutritious and cooked properly. But that didn't matter. Even if money hadn't been something they'd had in piles, Uraraka had never gone hungry growing up.

Her Father, on the other hand, had a Quirk that allowed him to keep his balance, no matter the terrain or surface he was walking across, as well as being able to keep the things in his grasp perfectly balanced as well. He could only carry so much at a time – super strength didn't factor into his ability – but whatever he did haul, could easily be stacked on top of one another, without risk of falling or loss. It had come in handy while working at his construction business, especially with the lack of funds to buy pricey equipment, or the extra hands for labor. This was also how he'd been able to keep Uraraka from becoming tiger chow when she'd been little and they'd been jostled at the zoo the one day.

Either one of those Quirks, in some form or another, would've been beneficial to Uraraka in her current profession. She couldn't really cook, and her balance was average. She'd had a few shifts where a plate or bowl had been dropped - mainly in the beginning, when she hadn't been used to being on her feet so much, or handling that much weight. Her skills were nothing to brag about.

By now, it was around seven, maybe a minute or two after. Uraraka had gathered her things together, and was dressed and freshened up in her casual outfit for the day: short denim coat, and a black tank top with matching skinny jeans. Her tidy enough looking sneakers were by the front door, and her purse with keys, wallet and phone was resting on the couch. There was one more thing she had to take care of, then she'd be on her way.

Pulling her hair into a low ponytail – work regulation, better to take care of it now rather than later, when she could easily forget, and it would hopefully help tame any unruly hairs – she stopped in front of another small, low table against the wall, beside the old TV and facing the couch. Carefully, she knelt down on the worn cushion in front. Before her was an incense burner, with a stick that needed to be changed, as well as two candles, some flowers in a vase, a small wooden post with carved characters, and finally, a large portrait in a sturdy frame.

In the picture was a couple: a man with brown locks and a stocky build, smiling broadly at the camera. Beside him stood a rounder, shorter woman, also with brown hair at medium length, and a sweet, serene smile pulling at her lips. Between them, in her secure hold, was a chubby-cheeked little girl, grinning widely and arms stretched out, as if welcoming the world. The scenery behind them was simple, the open yard surrounding their property; their house was built at the very end of the cul-de-sac, surrounded mainly by green and space, not other neighbors.

Clasping her hands together, Uraraka began to pray.

When she'd been eighteen, fresh out of high school and looking forward to college... _ **it**_ had happened. The day that, even now, still haunted her memories, and her heart. The pain had dulled somewhat, and the scar had formed over, but she had never forgotten.

It had been raining; the water had been pouring down in full force, with thunder rumbling on the horizon. She'd been at home, sitting in the living room looking over forms for various schools, when she'd seen her parents heading out. Asking where they could've possibly been going in such weather, her Father had given her a sheepish, tired grin.

"Ah...nowhere far. The guy who was s'pposed to deliver the supplies decided to put it off 'cause o' the rain. But..." He'd begun scratching behind his neck, letting out a heavy sigh. "We finally got a project the o'er day, and the client wants us to start as soon as we can. Tomorrow, even. He's impatient, but it'll pay good. And we can sure use the funds righ' about now. We jus' need those supplies. I know the roads ain't exactly ideal for travel, but..."

Her Mother had chuckled lightly then, patting his arm and giving Uraraka a knowing smile. "That's why I'm goin' with him. He needs a second pair o' eyes – and in this condition, maybe another pair o' hands, too." Her husband had started to protest, but she'd shushed him as they'd made their way to the door. Reassuring their daughter that they'd be back soon enough, they'd headed out in the truck, driving down the road in the ever-flowing storm.

Uraraka hadn't had any reason to be suspicious; of course she trusted her parents. She'd just wait for them to come back, and once they did, she could talk over college courses and testing with them. So that's just what she'd done.

She'd waited. And waited. And waited. One hour had become two. Then three, and four. The sky had darkened by this point, though the rain had shown no signs of slowing. Her parents hadn't returned home. She'd been about to call her Father's cell phone, out of concern, when the doorbell had rung. She'd gone to answer it, wondering if perhaps it was her parents, for some reason unable to get in...

But instead, she'd been greeted by two grim-faced police officers in crisp, drab suits, asking for her name. Confirming that, yes, she was Uraraka Ochako, their expressions hadn't gotten any brighter, as they'd proceeded to tell her the horrible news:

Her parents had been in a car accident.

Looking back over the whole scenario and how it had gone down, Uraraka supposed she should've seen it coming sooner. Police don't usually show up on your doorstep for any sort of 'good' reason. Still, she'd kept up that clueless optimism, even after hearing the ugly truth.

At first, she'd laughed nervously, saying there must've been some mistake. The expression on her face had felt tight, more like a grimace or a ghastly grin, while the chuckle from her throat had seemed like a strangled cough. The demeanor of the officers before her hadn't changed however and again, they'd repeated themselves. It was only when they'd begun to explain the exact details, that Uraraka had finally felt herself begin to crack.

The storm had been coming down hard, when her parents had been heading back from their supply trip. The roads had been slippery, and vision had been pretty limited. As they'd been about to make a turn, a car had come hurtling down from the right, mistaking the lights in their blurred windshield. And their vehicle had not been small. Because of the force from the crash and the weather conditions, plus speed on the other driver's end, their truck had gone skidding and flying, before slamming into a post on its back.

Both cars were in terrible shape, but her parents', in particular, had been just a mess of crushed, twisted metal, hissing smoke, and broken glass. It had taken a while to get the pair of them out, just to assess what condition they'd been in. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any Heroes patrolling that particular area at the time. The sight...had not been pretty.

By the time the ambulance had started transporting them to the hospital, the two of them were fading fast, with multiple injuries resulting in internal bleeding. The supplies they'd been transporting had contributed to this, one of the metal poles breaking the rear window and stabbing through the driver's seat.

Uraraka had already been throwing on a coat and slipping into her sneakers, purse on her shoulder, ready to run the entire way down to the hospital in the downpour. The officers had given her a ride instead, and she'd practically burst through the doors, rushing to the main counter in a disheveled state. Her eyes had been stinging, breaths labored as she'd pleaded to know where her parents were.

She'd been quickly led to a waiting area, where she'd first been informed of her Father's passing. He'd died shortly after arrival. Her Mother had been rushed into the ER for an emergency operation; her ribs were broken, among other things, and one had punctured her lung. There was also severe head trauma. The staff had answered her, seriously and honestly: they didn't know if she could be saved, let alone what state she'd be in upon regaining consciousness.

For another three or four hours, maybe even five or longer, Uraraka had sat in her chair, unable to focus on anything else. Time was a non-factor for her, as were her hunger or bathroom concerns. All she'd cared about was her parents. Part of her still couldn't accept this had been happening. Another had been screaming itself raw, at the thought of her Father not coming home. And the last one was frightened, to the point of being sick, at the thought of her Mother fighting to survive.

Her body had been shaking uncontrollably, as she'd continued to stare at the same patch of scuffed tile beneath her shoes. Eventually, her vision had started to swim and her head grew heavy. She'd had to shut her eyes, trying to keep herself together. Deep breathing, to control the rapid heartbeats and her pulse, throbbing in her ears.

Then, the door had opened. And they'd given her the news. Her Mother...hadn't made it.

The memories began to warp then. A lot of things had become muddled at that point, really. She couldn't quite recall what her reaction to the news had been. Perhaps she'd just stood there, staring off into space until the Doctor had finally brought her back down to Earth, when she'd much rather have died among the stars.

Possibly, she might've broken down into a pathetic, sobbing and screaming mess, sinking to the floor as her legs had given way. The painful thud of her knees against linoleum was all too easy to imagine. Or maybe, she'd actually vomited, as she'd felt like doing earlier, and they'd had to call in a janitor to help clean up.

She couldn't remember, and probably never would by this point. It had been six years ago. For all she knew, none of those things had happened. Or every one of them had. But that had effectively been the beginning of the end; a farewell to childhood, as mortality had become far more apparent than she'd ever wanted to realize...

"Hi, Dad...hi, Mom...I hope you guys are doing okay..." Or, about as well as could be expected for those who'd passed on. Uraraka truly had no idea if there was something, a 'great beyond' after this life. But the talking and prayers, they helped. It was somewhat reassuring, the image of her Mother and Father, watching over her and all she did. Would they be happy, seeing her working to the bone, in order to keep a roof above her head – and their memory alive?

Hands still clasped tightly together, Uraraka let out a slow breath, before continuing on. "Had another late night...didn't get much sleep either, heh. I know...I should take better care of myself. I should be happy..." A thin, sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips; that was something her parents had instilled in her, from her earliest years: do what you love. Don't do something just because you felt obligated, or expected. It was a major reason as to why they wouldn't let her take up at their business – they didn't want their burdens to become hers, or for her to feel like their livelihood had to be hers, either.

But...she was happy, wasn't she? Even with everything that had happened? She didn't want to lose those memories they'd accumulated over those eighteen wonderful years. The company may've been disbanded after their passing, but the house had been left to her, and like hell Uraraka was going to let it go to ruin.

Every inch of the property held some sort of personal attachment to her – from the kitchen, where she'd made so many messes trying to learn how to cook under her Mother's guiding hands, and ultimately didn't succeed – to the living room, where her Father used to lie down with a beer and a monthly anthology, chuckling over the comics – to the bathroom, where both of them had been struggling to unclog the sink one day, but instead wound up popping off one of the handles, spraying water everywhere.

Uraraka had come rushing in at the sounds of squealing, shouting, and a bit of cursing, to find her parents thoroughly drenched, finally willing to give in and call an actual plumber. Just because they ran a construction company didn't mean they knew how to do everything. Parents weren't flawless, even if they were the first closest thing their children had to heroes. They weren't immortal.

A quick shake of her head then. "But, it's okay! I'm okay – today's a new day, and I can always make it better than the one before. I just have to keep moving forwards, looking up. "Keep my chin up" - that's what you'd say, right? Whenever I was upset about anything. Today is yesterday's tomorrow, and come what may, I have to make the best of it."

Refusing to let her misty gaze form into salty, hot tears, Uraraka forced the smile onto her face, hands letting go as she bowed to the small shrine. "I'll keep working hard, so you don't have to worry about me. And then, one day...one day, things'll get better...one day...I promise." With those last parting words, Uraraka stood up, grabbing her purse and blinking away the remaining droplets in her eyes. The sun had risen a bit more, and upon checking her phone, she saw that it was now almost ten after seven.

It would take a short walk to get to the station, but then she had to wait for the train itself. Hopefully, it'd be on time. Following that, the ride would be somewhere around thirty minutes, before she'd reach her stop, and walk the last three blocks to the restaurant. If all went well, she'd arrive there right before eight a.m. She could clock in and get changed, then get started on setting up and making sure that everything was tidy and up to standards. Hard though the shifts could be on her, as well as her boss, she couldn't fault him for wanting to run a clean business.

She'd been to a few other small joints in the area, when she'd actually had the funds for a quick bite to eat outside, and their facilities, let alone their dining areas...left much to be desired. Needless to say, she hadn't returned. If her money was going to cheap meals, she'd rather it wind up at the convenience store, than a place that couldn't even deal with roaches, let alone remember to check their restrooms, or cook their food fully.

The trek to her usual destination was as uneventful as ever. Office workers, men and women, shuffling across the streets. Kids of varying ages, waiting for the bus or just walking straight to their schools. For the older ones in their sailor uniforms, high-collared suits, or far more business-looking apparel, they were on their way to catch the same sort of ride as she. The sunlight was streaming over the buildings, lighting up the neatly built and arranged homes, shops, and roads. The scenery was peaceful with a homey pallet. This was where Uraraka had lived her entire life, and she had no desire to move anytime soon. So much of her existence was tied to the area, not just the house she cared for.

Like the playground, where she'd tried, and failed, on the stretch of smooth winding pavement, to learn how to rollerblade, falling on her rear more times than she could count. Or the one incident, when she'd gone straight backwards over the bars of the rocket-shaped jungle gym, falling about three or four rungs and winding up with a head full of sand. No injuries; she'd just been more startled than anything else.

There'd used to be an ice cream parlor nearby too, where her Mom and Dad would take her afterwards. She'd loved their strawberry ice cream, sometimes even getting a bowl of it mixed with chocolate and sprinkles. They'd closed shortly before her parents had passed on. A shame, really. She hadn't been able to find another place whose frozen treats were quite as good.

It had been a family-run establishment, but she supposed when their own kids had grown up and declined taking over the reins, business had become harder on the now much older owners, and thus, they'd closed the doors. Such was the unspoken risk of becoming an adult: not everything would grow up and age right alongside you.

Or everyone.

As she stood at the platform, checking her phone for the time and to make sure she hadn't missed any updates – about twenty minutes after seven, currently – a few snippets of a nearby conversation drifted into her hearing. A couple of high school girls were eagerly chatting about something that happened in the news recently. Apparently, some sort of standoff between police and a villain, that had been effectively ended when two pro heroes had shown up on the scene.

"Yeah, I know! Isn't it crazy? Who would've thought that being able to become like liquid would come in handy like that? He was totally able to slide under the door and get the drop on the guy!" The speaker, a girl in a grey uniform with long, slightly tinted locks, was waving her arms wildly, a wide grin on her face. "Oh, oh - and he was _really_ cute once he reformed, too!"

Her friend, in the same uniform but a bit taller with straight, shoulder-length dark hair, nodded in excited agreement. "Mm-hm! And don't forget, the one who disarmed the bombs! To be able to tell at a glance how to dismantle them – and then be able to, with just their hands, no tools needed! How smart d'you think she is outside of her job, with a Quirk like that?" At this, the two girls let out wistful sighs.

"It's too bad...gee, I would've loved to get into one of the hero schools out here. But you need really good grades, _and_ Quirks, to make any sort of impression. And my Quirk is like, the lamest of the lame." The second girl huffed, before holding up a hand, palm flat, and expelling a little puff of air. "It's warm, so I guess it's good for drying off quickly, but I have to make sure it doesn't get too hot, unless I wanna singe my skin. I can't really do much else with it."

Her friend nodded sympathetically, offering her condolences. "It's okay, I'm in the same boat as you." Shutting her eyes, the longer-haired female took in a deep breath – and almost instantly, her locks rose straight up, spiking out sharply. Her friend had to step back, to make sure she didn't get poked. With another sigh, her hair went limp, and the girl shook her head sadly. "I mean, if I wanted to go punk for a day, it'd be okay, but...I don't like Rock 'n' Roll...and it starts to hurt after a little bit, too."

The girls started heading off then, talking about Quirks and what it would be like if they could've made a living for themselves with 'good' ones. Their voices faded into the general morning buzz of the station, but their words still rang in Uraraka's head.

Yeah, maybe those Quirks weren't the most conventional for a hero, but even then – having a Quirk was better than having none at all. At least, in her opinion. People like her were few and far between nowadays, and that _wasn't_ a good thing. Even as her parents had continued to reassure her that it didn't matter whether she had one or not, and their love had never wavered, there was still the rest of the world to deal with. Like the kids in school, who would constantly tease her, or even used their Quirks against her, just to get a reaction. The adults, who would try to hide their disappointment politely when they'd meet her and ask the all-important question: "What can you do?"

Or just the media, in general, exemplifying Quirks and raising up heroes, practically to the status of gods. Maybe they didn't mean to, but...there really weren't that many role models like her who were celebrated anymore. Even the police and such had been delegated to second string; if you weren't 'abnormal', then you weren't 'normal' at all. You didn't fit in. And especially having been born to two hardworking people with Quirks of their own...to those on the outside, it was nothing short of a tragedy.

A sharp chill down her spine. Just like when her parents had died, then? Where there hadn't been any heroes on duty in the area, to do something, anything, to keep things from turning out the way they had?

Uraraka felt her heart skip, and she quickly bit down on the inside of her cheek. _**No.**_ That was dangerous territory she was heading towards. It was nobody's fault that this had happened. It was just unfortunate circumstances. The heroes hadn't been ignoring her parents. She didn't want to hate them, or anybody with Quirks. Holding grudges would only make you sick. That's not what her parents would want for her. She needed to be strong, and make a life for herself where she could be happy the _right_ way – and so could they.

At the moment, things weren't perfect. She didn't have a lot of social contacts, she was constantly working, her pay was meager, her boss didn't respect her, and she was Quirkless, but it. Was. Okay. It would all be okay. As long as she kept her chin up, and kept moving forward, things would turn out alright. Good things came to those who waited, right?

She just had to continue working hard, biding her time, until that 'something' came along; the 'something' that she'd been looking for, preparing for, all this while. The 'it' that would change everything, give her a true purpose. Then she wouldn't have to worry. Then her parents wouldn't have to worry.

Just smile, and wave...watch your past life saying goodbye, as you stand on the platform, waiting for the future to roll in from down the tracks.

The sound of a whistle caught in her hearing, and Uraraka straightened her posture. The train was finally at the station. Putting away her jumbled thoughts, she did her best to bear a pleasant, if somewhat reserved exterior appearance, and steel herself for the tasks of the day ahead. She couldn't work well if her head was tangled in negativity, and she really didn't need another lecture from her boss. Not that he wouldn't find something else to nag her on, but she wasn't about to give him any more ammunition than he already apparently had.

With that, the doors slid open and, after letting the people on board step out first, Uraraka proceeded to slip in, heading for the back. Cheerful though she may've wanted to be, she really didn't fancy being blinded by the sun. A bright future was one thing. Needing shades because she couldn't see where she was going was another entirely.

 _If at first you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again..._

 **A/N: 'peeks in' Uhh...hi there...?**

 **Yeah, I'm...kinda-sorta still a newbie here, to this fandom; I only recently got into the series, but I fell in love almost immediately. I'm caught up on the manga, and I've read through the available Chapters more than once, plus a WHOLE lotta fanfic. But...I'm still not sure if I'm doing this right.**

 **I haven't written a new, much less COMPLETED fanfiction in a few YEARS, by this point. I worry I might've lost my touch. But, I really enjoy this series, as I do writing - though recently, I've been feeling kind of stressed with some of my other stories. So...I've decided to take a break on them, and put my focus somewhere else, trying out something new. I've had a handful of Plot Bunnies running around my head here for 'BNHA', and after many brainstorming sessions and failed attempts...this is the one I've settled on working with.**

 **Yes, it's an AU; I'm not really good at writing anything else. Though, it's closer to canon than most of the other AU fics I've done over the years. The general outline for the universe is the same [Quirks, Heroes, Villains, UA], but certain character roles/histories have altered. Some events have also been rearranged to happen further down the line, or with new elements added in. I can only hope I'll be able to pull it off. As always, even with these differences, I'm still going to do my best to keep characters familiar, and not go off the rails with OOC, no mater how much or how little their roles/experiences may've changed.**

 **Also: I know this beginning intro is kind of...depressing AF? ^^; I apologize - this was NOT the way I had imagined it happening. But, this is where the muse took me, and as a starting point, I think...I'm satisfied with it? I'm happy with the general flow and setup, though I'm still new here, so characterization is something I'm iffy on. Uraraka strikes me as the kind of person to smile, even when her heart is breaking, and not want to dump her grief on others.**

 **She also doesn't strike me as the bitter type - though at the same time, this doesn't mean that she can never experience negative feelings, or cry. I just see it as being maybe, a more...personal thing with her? Like, she only started crying when alone on the phone with her parents during the sport's festival, while being cheery with Deku beforehand. I don't know, I see a LOT of strength in her, both in her skills and spirit. Am I making any sense here?**

 **Umm...anyway, yeah. Hopefully, the humor will start picking up in the next few Chapters - otherwise, I gotta change the Genre XD - and I can get more into the main story. If anyone here likes what I'm doing, please...drop me a line? I get REALLY worried when it's quiet; if people are telling me whether it's good or bad, at least I know where I stand. But when nobody says anything at all...then I get scared. I get lost. So please, don't be afraid to come and say hi. As I mentioned before, I am still new to this series. So if I'm messing up on anything, I'd like to be told now, while this story is still in its 'infancy', if you will. I have a better shot at fixing things, and giving both you guys and the source material the respect and quality you deserve.**

 **Also...writing is one of the only things that I seem to have any sort of proclivity towards. Hell, maybe one day, I'd like to make a living off of it, this 'something' that makes me happy. But...I need the feedback. It doesn't need to be lengthy, or spell-checked, or in English, or signed in. It just needs to be THERE. No set amount, just...as long as SOMEBODY'S saying SOMETHING, then I'm good. I won't be afraid.**

 **Alrighty then...bye. 'quickly runs away to hide back under my rock'**


	2. Credit In The Straight World

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku No Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the original artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

By the time Uraraka walked through the door of the small eatery, it was about five to eight. Offering a quick hello to the pair of servers who were already heading out on the floor, she scurried into the back, past the kitchen. Reaching the small set of changing areas and check in, for men and women, she stuffed her bag into her locker, after first fumbling with the combination. Hurriedly changing into her uniform, she switched her shoes before finally shutting the door, locking up and stepping out.

The restaurant wasn't huge, but its size wasn't a reason for it to be brushed off. It had a cozy, quaint feel to it, as though it were a personal hideaway you could escape to, and enjoy some time apart from the fast-paced world beyond. At least, if you were a customer. The walls were painted a deep burnt red, while the floors were black cherry-hued carpet. Only the kitchen, bathrooms and front entrance had hard floor. The first two were basic tile, while the last was solid brick. The lights arranged above were enough to cast a pleasant glow, while not being obnoxious or ruining the effects of the color pallet.

The air was usually filled with the present but not overwhelming scent of whatever foods were currently in prep. Otherwise, there was a faint earthy smell, from the few fresh plants potted around the corners. They were watered regularly - or replaced entirely, if necessary. This happened more often than most would expect, being that they were an establishment that sold liquor from a fully functioning bar. And the smells that could come from a night of heavy drinking were not ones you wanted lingering in the air around the meals and diners.

With card in hand, the brunette hurriedly punched in, and not a moment too soon – just as the relieved sigh left her lips, a mocking, cool voice caught her attention from directly behind. "Well, well...barely on time, it seems. Why am I not surprised?" Trying not to jump, Uraraka slowly turned around, regarding her boss with a polite, if somewhat awkward smile and greeting.

"H-Hello, Monoma-taicho..." The blond that stood before her wore a pressed shirt and neatly matching slacks, the top pale blue in color, just like his narrow eyes. They were surveying her with icy distaste, as his lips pursed into a sneer. He wasn't that much taller than her, but based off of the way he held himself and the aura he exuded, was enough to make Uraraka feel like an insignificant ant, whether she wanted to or not.

He disregarded her acknowledgement, simply gliding past without a second look. But his intent was all too clear. "Nohara-san and Ige-san have already started handling most of the work just fine. I _suppose_ if you're going to be here though, you'd do well to make up for not pulling your _weight_. Hmph." In other words, they'd been able to accomplish more in the few minutes since they'd arrived than she'd be able to even if she'd shown up earlier.

Nohara Rika had a Quirk that basically acted as though she were constantly skating. It allowed her to move fluidly across the floor, and at a speed that worked well for a restaurant setting. Her balance wasn't to be scoffed at, either. She could handle multiple trays like a pro. She just had to make sure not to get carried away with the speed - the faster she went, the harder it was to steer.

Ige Jounouchi, on the other hand, could temporarily attach any sort of physical, non-organic objects together. Not to himself though, or others. But this came in handy bringing out things like silverware, or putting away cookware. It just depended on how much could be carried at once – like her Father's Quirk, super-strength wasn't a part of the deal. And he had to be careful when separating them; if he rushed, they were liable to go flying.

And then there was her. Uraraka Ochako. Quirkless. Only two hands, average balance and physical prowess, no remarkable speed or terrain navigation. These two together could flawlessly dance circles around her, though thankfully they were kind enough not to.

As she rushed back into the dining area, she saw Rika give her a warm, if slightly worried grin, as she proceeded to loop around one of the longer tables, offering her a pat on the shoulder and a damp rag. "Hey, Uraraka-san. I haven't finished placing out all the utensils yet, or wiping down the tops. Ige-san's getting them all stacked up, so there should still be a couple bunches left in the kitchen. You can take what remains, and get those booths to the right in the meantime. 'Kay?" Uraraka offered a wide, grateful smile in response.

She may not have had a Quirk of her own, but even if her boss was a jerk, that didn't mean everyone with a Quirk was. Her co-workers, for one, had been nothing but encouraging to her once they'd become aware of her situation. She hadn't told them; it had tumbled out accidentally during a mishap cleaning up after hours, thanks to Monoma's big mouth. He'd been almost gleeful in outing her to the group, blue eyes gleaming as much as the gloating grin on his face.

But instead of berating her, they'd offered unwavering support – she'd been keeping up with all of them for well over a month by that point, even with all they could do. It was obvious she didn't view her status as a handicap, and neither would they. Only Monoma seemed to have any real issue with her here. Which made no sense, seeing as, Quirkless or not, he'd still hired her, hadn't he? That guy was a real piece of work.

Six years. Going on six years she'd been working at Mimic Grill, and she still hadn't figured out Monoma Neito. He was her age. Once attending UA to become a hero, when that career had effectively stalled out directly following graduation. He apparently hadn't garnered enough attention during that particular three years' ups and downs. So, he'd wound up stepping in to take over his family's business instead.

Or, more accurately, they'd offered him the position, to make him feel like he'd at least accomplished _some_ thing in his life. That's how some of the other staff phrased it. He did have a rather fragile ego. After all, his folks had even allowed him to change its name, a reflection of the ability he was so proud of. Thankfully, he'd had enough common sense to read up on what he'd been getting into, as well as some vague experience growing up with a connection to the business. That, and it wasn't like he'd been a delinquent in school, either. He'd have to have had some sort of prowess to make it into the Academy to begin with.

Was he just holding onto a sort of bitter grudge from his earlier years, not having wound up with the position he'd wanted? Running an establishment gave him a place of power, if nothing else, but if he'd been looked down on while in the hero program, what good was it to act the same way towards someone else – much less somebody who wasn't even on the same playing field? Perhaps his general attitude had something to do with it? Considering a couple of the employees here were his classmates, it sure sounded like it, from the tidbits they shared.

It wasn't as though Uraraka was stupid, or lazy. She'd just gotten the short end of the stick, genetics-wise. But that wasn't a crime. She still took care and pride in the work she did, and the life she lived. That was the way her parents had raised her. Would he have made fun of them too if he'd met them, for having her as a child, or even praising her? She didn't pick on him about his past shortcomings, like the other staff were want to do when out of earshot. And she had more reason than anybody to do so, what with all the grief he gave her!

Copycat. That was the nature of his Quirk: the ability to temporarily replicate the power of another, upon coming into contact with them. It had honestly sounded pretty impressive, when she'd first heard about it, though she'd never admit it aloud to anybody. Sometimes, if things got too crazy at the restaurant and they were short on help, he could borrow the skill of one of his employees, and lend a hand in the work. So long as it wasn't going to get his hands dirty, anyway. Mostly just carrying out orders or bringing in extra supplies. But it served its purpose in the long run.

Uraraka didn't want to believe that she was useless. No matter how the world may've been structured, no matter if there were others beyond her door or the restaurant that would look down on her. Heck, even if her own boss thought she was just dead weight, or no better than his own personal verbal and emotional punching bag, she wouldn't, couldn't allow herself to be dragged down by such thoughts and feelings.

She had to keep fighting; this was her own daily battle being waged in the streets, the pathways of her life. There was no 'hero' waiting in the wings to save her. The only one she could rely on was herself.

Once the tables had been tidied and arranged, it was time to count out the menus, and check the schedule to see if any shipments were due to come in today. Monoma was the one who kept the records, but he wouldn't do a thing to help with the labor. It was on the waitstaff, kitchen crew and busboys to handle any and all of that. By the time they'd gotten the papers and found out that no, there weren't any deliveries scheduled over the course of the day, the cooks and kitchen crew were already checking in, and settling down behind the back line.

"Yo, Uraraka-san! How you holdin' up?" The head chef and dessert maker, Satou Rikido, was tying on his apron, a donut in hand. He finished it in a single gulp, swinging his arm a few times to make sure he could handle the sugar rush. She gave him an encouraging smile and thumbs-up, which he returned, if a little slower. He also offered her the last of his pastries, which she accepted – then promptly had to store away in her locker. It wasn't break time yet. Monoma would bite her head off if he caught her sneaking even one nibble from the confections.

Satou was another graduate from UA, same year as Monoma, though different class. So, one of the few who had outside dirt on him. His Quirk involved food, sweets in particular. He was already physically imposing, but the more sugar he consumed, the stronger he grew. However, in exchange, his reasoning and intelligence would weaken. So, during work shifts, he would only eat a small dosage to give him an extra boost, nothing more. Having a Quirk so closely involved with cooking reminded Uraraka, oddly enough, of her Mother. It helped that Satou was a nice guy to begin with, too.

His skills were unmatched when it came to whipping up desserts, though he'd made it a point to learn how to concoct other dishes as well. So when things hadn't taken off after his three years at UA, he'd easily been able to snag a job at Monoma's place. Knowing the guy during high school hadn't hurt his chances, either. It seemed that if the blond bore a grudge against anyone in particular from there, Satou definitely wasn't it.

The sun was now fully in the sky, as with a flourish, Monoma flipped over the sign on the front window. "Time to earn those paychecks, people. The 'Mimic Grill' is officially open for another day. Chop-chop." Taking in a deep breath, Uraraka smoothed out the half-apron on her uniform – the outfit itself was a dress top, with matching vest and tight miniskirt, in the colors of black and white – hoping the smile on her face didn't betray her lack of sleep, or past tumultuous thoughts.

It was time to earn that prized minimum wage. With show, not tell.

 **…...**

Lunch rush was almost finished by the time Uraraka got to take a breather. With sweat beginning to plaster her bangs to her forehead, and dampen the collar of her blouse, she was only too grateful to be able to pull out the snacks Satou had offered her how long ago that morning. It honestly felt like it had happened in another lifetime. Small though their establishment may've been, Monoma knew how to run a tight ship, and make sure any customers who showed up would be certain to return.

As she grabbed herself a paper cup of water from the machine set up in the break room, to the other side of the boss' office, Uraraka allowed herself to flop into one of the folding chairs in front of the basic table, letting out a deep sigh she didn't even realize was there. It felt good to be off her toes for a little bit; her heels were low, but they were still elevated, and after a while they _hurt_. If only sneakers or flats could've been a part of the uniform instead. Alas, Monoma was insistent on portraying a certain image to the clientele who passed through their doorway.

'Simplistically elegant' was how he put it, getting quality product and service, for a better price than the competition, without unnecessary excess. At the same time, it had to look upscale and polished, to somewhat 'trick' the patrons into thinking they were being spoiled, even with the lower cost. It was an effective strategy, she had to admit. Whether he was just following in his parent's footsteps or it was something else he'd added on once he'd taken over, she didn't know. But the business was steady, so it must've been working. She only wished it were a little easier on her feet.

Taking a bite of one of the three donuts Satou had shared – in his hands, they were tiny, while in hers, they practically dwarfed them – she allowed a groan of appreciation to leave her mouth, at the delectable spreading sweetness upon her taste buds, and the soft, fluffy texture. She knew for certain that these were homemade; nobody out here baked pastries quite like him. If he ever wanted to, Satou would have no trouble establishing a joint of his own. The flow of traffic would be non-stop.

"Oh, hey Ochako-chan. You're in here, too? Guess I'm just in time for a mini social, heh." At hearing the greeting, the brunette's demeanor instantly perked up, as she turned to regard the new guest with wide eyes and a big grin, speckled with traces of powdered sugar around her lips. "Kendo-san!"

In response, she received a warm smile and a wave. Then, Uraraka's face became sheepish. "Eheheh, not exactly...I didn't have time to make lunch today, or enough funds to buy...but I got lucky. Satou gave me some of his breakfast." In all honesty, it had completely slipped her mind, until Satou had put the food in her hands.

Taking the seat beside her, the redhead swept back her long side ponytail, and placed her wrapped lunch on the table. Upon taking in Uraraka's 'meal', she raised an eyebrow, green eyes scanning her coworker intently. "Really? You know that's not good for you. It won't fill you up for very long, and neither will that kick of sugar." Sighing, Kendo began to open up her box from the napkin she'd tied it in. "Though I'm at least grateful you're eating something..."

Kendo Itsuka was the other classmate of Monoma's that had wound up working at his place after graduation. Not just that, she'd actually been in his class, and had been one of the only ones who'd bothered interacting with him at all – though part of that interaction came in the form of discipline, given in swift karate chops to the head. She was the only person here at the restaurant who Monoma wouldn't try to mess with, not usually, and if she were around, Uraraka would be granted temporary sanctuary. Those whacks to the noggin had really left an impression on him from their youth.

It also helped that Kendo's Quirk allowed her to enlarge her hands to amazing proportions – Uraraka really didn't want to imagine what a hit from one of those would feel like. They certainly came in handy getting food out to the diners, that was for sure.

Straight-up, if Uraraka were to be honest, she'd admit that she was surprised someone like Kendo had wound up in a position like this. She'd heard from the woman herself about an internship job she'd gotten as a First-Year at UA, after their famous Sport's Festival. Uraraka herself hadn't gone to watch; it wasn't her school, and she didn't have a power of her own. However, she'd seen bits and pieces of it before on the news. It was a huge deal, being the equivalent of the Olympics in Japan, since the discovery of Quirks. Just that small bit of exposure meant something.

Not only that, but Kendo had been doing light modeling as well during her stint with the pro hero who'd asked for her. Even if she couldn't make a name for herself as a hero, Kendo, in Uraraka's opinion, was ridiculously pretty. Not super tall or painfully short, like she herself felt. The height was complimented by flawless pale skin, long vibrant copper locks, and those bright green eyes. She was also in good shape, not having given up on physical fitness even after graduating UA. She could've easily gotten more modeling gigs, the brunette was sure of it.

Heck, if nothing else, she could've even been a Hostess at a club. She would've been certain to earn a nice paycheck there. One of the first things Uraraka had done after her parents had died, was attempt to doll herself up, and hit the bar circuit...that had gone about as well as expected, for somebody like her.

That was a story for another time, however.

"Here." Uraraka was startled from her musings, looking down to see a new paper napkin being held out with three sushi rolls offered. She tried to protest, but Kendo wasn't having any of it. Shaking her head, she set them directly on the table, next to Uraraka's donuts. "I can't offer much, but you need something else to help keep you going. You've been here longer than I have today – you're going to need more of the energy than I do. Besides, I always pack too much. So it's good having someone to share them with."

Finally conceding defeat, Uraraka nodded, reaching for the first of the rolls, instead of the second donut. They were stuffed with rice, cucumber, fish and egg, along with takuan and some sort of sauce. Upon taking a bite, the girl felt her face dissolve once more in bliss; why were her friends such amazing cooks, and she with her Mother hadn't been able to learn at all? If she could progress, even just a little, then maybe one day she could bring something in, and pay them back for their kindness. "Mm...Kendo-san, this is delicious! Thank you so much..."

The redhead was smiling, though again, one eyebrow was slightly cocked in questioning. "Really, Ochako-chan. We've known each other for what, six years now? You don't have to stay so formal. You can call me 'Itsuka', it's perfectly fine with me. You don't need the honorific." At this, Uraraka felt herself blush, and she quickly swallowed the piece of food in her mouth. They'd talked about this before, but it still hadn't sunk in for the brunette. On the other hand, though...

"But, you're always calling me 'Ochako-chan'. So what's the difference?" Kendo chuckled, bringing a fresh baby carrot to her mouth with her chopsticks. After chewing it over, she offered her reply.

"Well, it's mostly because I like the 'chan' suffix. It suits you. But I do call you by your first name, don't I? If you really want to, call me 'Itsuka' with a 'chan' suffix. But you don't have to be so overly formal. We're the same age, you know." Uraraka nodded slowly in regards to this answer, though inside she knew that old habits would die hard. Perhaps, because of the situation she found herself in, she felt as though she needed to keep that extra layer of respectfulness? Even though they were both servers, she couldn't help but feel that she was looking up to Kendo, more than working alongside her. It didn't help that, in her view, the redhead was far more accomplished than she in her twenty-four years.

"So, how have things been so far today?" Taking a bite of one of her remaining rolls, Kendo leaned back in her chair. "I've only been here since one p.m, so...two, almost three hours? I missed the breakfast rush." After a long sip from her fruit tea, she enjoyed a few more bites, finishing the piece quickly.

Uraraka had another drink from her own water before answering. "Not too bad. Mostly old people today. A few families, but not many. They all started showing up around noon." Uraraka let out a sigh then. "The usual comments about how everyone else is using their Quirk actively in working, and how I must be helping out behind the scenes. At least it's better than those who straight-up ask me what my power is. With the former, I can just nod and move on. You already know some of the looks and reactions I get when I have to answer."

Kendo offered her own nod in sympathy. "I really don't know why it's anybody's business whether or not you do or don't have a Quirk. I mean, even if they are more common than not, that doesn't mean everybody's gonna have them. And it's not like people can't physically function without them. It's an added perk and opportunity - nothing more, nothing less. Having a Quirk doesn't determine whether or not somebody's a good person."

Her green-eyed gaze landed on Uraraka knowingly. "I've known plenty of people in my life with Quirks, and trust me – you work harder than a good handful of them. You can stand on your own two feet, and you don't let anything get you down. You come in to work damn near every day, never complain about the work you're tasked or the pay, and even when Monoma gives you crap, you still manage to smile and shrug it off. You're strong, Ochako-chan. And if those people can't see this, then that's a problem with them, not you."

She finished her statement with a confident, encouraging smile, and Uraraka couldn't help but return it, even if she didn't always feel the same way. Even if, many times, she found herself questioning and doubting her own abilities. "Yeah...thank you, Ke – erm, Itsuka-chan." Maybe an old dog could learn new tricks after all?

Once they'd both finished their respective meals, they headed to the restroom to wash up, before getting ready for the next and final shift of the day: the dinner rush. This was where they got the most of their customers, and in particular around the bar. The elderly usually came around morning, while families showed up for lunch. Nighttime was all about the adult crowd, younger and older alike, single, couples or friends, but grown-up all the same.

This was the point in her day that Uraraka dreaded the most.

Problem customers were something that anyone in any sort of service job would have to deal with, at some point or another. It just came with the territory. But troublemakers in the restaurant business were a special breed of problematic – especially when alcohol was involved. Add in the fact of being a female server, and a small, vulnerable-looking one at that, usually taking care of rowdy guys, and you had another thing altogether.

But throwing in Quirks, plus 'workplace policies' and conduct? Yeah, that was a whole new level of grating and unfair.

It was understood that, unless you were a professionally licensed hero taking care of a case, those with Quirks weren't meant to use their powers on others. This was just common sense. If a Quirk was beneficial to a job or task however, then the bearer of said Quirk would be given a pass to use it in such a situation. But this presented a special note of consideration: what if you were placed in a situation of discomfort during the course of your job, where you possessed a Quirk and the means to defend yourself, but still couldn't use your Quirk on another?

This was where something called 'Lawful Threat' came into play. Basically, as long as there was no physical damage, caused to either a person or property, a Quirk user could 'protect' themselves from assault, by way of a 'demonstration'. If their Quirk didn't require user-to-body contact, they could display it in a manner that would effectively signal to the antagonistic person that, yes, they can fight back if necessary. If the customer didn't back off by that point however, or if somebody couldn't apply their power without physical interaction, then it was up to a server to bring in a manager, or simply deal with the issue as it was, without retaliation.

That was a problem for someone like Uraraka, being without a Quirk.

She was basically on her own during her work shifts, without any sorts of boosts to back herself up. No ability or defense. If she had trouble from anyone, unless somebody else – like a coworker - just happened to see her situation and get involved, she had to simply suck it up, and play it off. Worst-case scenario, she'd leave the group, and switch with someone else, if there was anyone in the vicinity who was willing to swap. But God help her if Monoma caught wind of it.

Seeing that he took a pleasure in her struggle and suffering, he was completely useless, as any sort of support against problematic patrons. The one time she'd gone to him, had been after a guy had flipped up her waist-apron, and nearly placed his hand over the front of her skirt in an area he had no business being near. Jumping back about a foot, she'd promptly marched off to tell her boss. He'd been behind the till, writing some figures in the records book. After telling him what had happened however, he'd merely regarded her with a nasty smirk.

"Oh, what's the problem? Can't handle working in a _mature_ establishment among adults? Funny, I don't see any of your coworkers complaining." He'd given her an icily appraising look then. "Of course, they know how to take care of themselves. I suppose being of such a... _weak_ constitution, you'd be more prone to these sorts of personal issues."

With that, he'd proceeded to wave her away with a lazy sweep of his hands, eyes returning to the numbers below him. "Get back to work. When you've actually got something worth my time to discuss, then come find me. But I am _not_ here to play babysitter, or bodyguard." Uraraka had felt her jaw drop at his callous response, but managed to close it just in time before catching his parting glare. "Well? Don't make me repeat myself."

In other words, it didn't matter if any of the customers decided to put their hands on her, for whatever reason. It was her own fault, apparently, because she hadn't been born with a Quirk to scare them off - no, because she just hadn't been born with one, in general. So by Monoma's logic, she deserved what she got. Thinking it over in retrospect, she wondered if his answer would've been the same if it were he in her position and the skirt, with a Quirk he couldn't use to turn the tide in his favor. Well, his ability did already fit those requirements...perhaps he would've been more understanding then?

Ugh...the thought of Monoma in a skirt...some guys could rock it. In his case, she just didn't want to even consider it. He was her employer, after all - there were _plenty_ of various scenarios, circumstances and attires that she would prefer not to imagine him in, especially seeing how much grief he gave her.

Since then, Uraraka had done her best to devise ways out of tricky situations. One of the most important things was not letting her discomfort be noticeable. Her tormentors enjoyed knowing they could get that sort of reaction from her. They liked having that sort of dominance over their targets. Although her hands were tied in matters of conflict, she could at least find a peaceful solution to keep things from escalating. Most of the time, anyway.

If it was just uncomfortably personal questions, she'd simply giggle, and brush them off with either a "Sorry, I'm on the clock, can't answer", or "It's against company policy to discuss these sorts of things". If it was unwarranted contact, but in a form that she could avoid, she'd dodge, giggle once more, and offer up a "Don't touch the merchandise!"

She hated, absolutely _loathed_ , having to be so... **friendly** , in the face of harassment. But it was either that, or lose her job, and her only source of income. Otherwise, she'd be punting people across the restaurant, left and right, fighter though she may not have been properly trained as. It was one thing to have people look down on her. It was another thing entirely for them to enter her space her against her will.

And sometimes, there were situations where her patented 'escape maneuvers' weren't enough, and the situation was too much for her to handle. She did her best to keep them at a minimum, and handle as many as she could on her own. But when they did rear their ugly heads, she had her two earlier options available: switch clients with another member of staff, or get another coworker involved.

During most of those 'special' scenarios, Kendo had usually been the one to step in, when it came to laying down the law. One hard stare from her jade green eyes, sharp as daggers, along with the brandishing of an oversized hand in position, ready to strike, was enough to sober up many a drunken fool. Or, she'd take over the table entirely, letting Uraraka scurry off to whoever she was tending to before.

A couple times, Nohara had been on a late shift, and had willingly swapped, even though she hadn't understood why the brunette was so eager to get away. But she didn't question it. If anyone tried anything on her, she could literally spin on her heel, and leave them clutching at air, if they didn't just fall on their face entirely.

There had been an incident one night, when Kendo had been off sick, and Nohara had already left for the day. It had been a party of three guys, and one of them, a burly male with messy hair and a gleam in his sloppy gaze, had been eyeing her up and down like a wild animal. He'd made more than one attempt to pull her into his lap, along with a good few inappropriate, and downright vulgar comments.

When his hand had tried to grab her rear and slide up under the back of her skirt, however, Uraraka had had enough. Keeping her breathing steady, she'd excused herself, and headed towards the kitchens and bathrooms, trying to figure out what on Earth she was going to do.

Unfortunately, she hadn't been alone. Her 'admirer' had chosen to follow her, and attempted to push her into the restrooms, hands wanting to roam everywhere that she didn't want anybody touching. It was one of the only times she'd been truly scared, and it had been all too apparent in her voice.

However, as frightened as she may've been, there was a surging undercurrent of anger as well. Who did this guy think he was? Hadn't he ever learned how to treat a lady - or any human being, for that manner? Was he so drunk, and entitled, to think that she was nothing more than a plaything, an object to be used and thrown aside? No matter if she were in customer service, or if Monoma didn't have her back. There were limits, and this guy had thoroughly crossed them.

She'd been doing her best to drive him off, with whatever she could remember of the self-defense taught to her by none other than her Mother. Basic moves, nothing fancy: high heel to foot or shin, base of palm to chin, elbow to ribs - those were the moves she'd tossed out, struggling to push him away. He had reeked of liquor, and it was enough to make her head spin. He may've been already drunk before arriving at their place, who really knew. All that mattered was that she didn't want him anywhere in her vicinity, now or ever again.

Luckily for her, the kitchen door had opened at the moment he'd been about to rip open her shirt collar, with Satou poking his head out. He'd heard the commotion from the scuffle, and upon seeing Uraraka in her compromising and entirely unwilling position, had immediately sprung into action. It took about five seconds for Satou to march up and haul the guy off of her, slamming him into the wall. He'd willingly broken the 'Lawful Threat' clause, but without even using his Quirk fully. And Uraraka wasn't about to rat him out for it. The look in his eyes, and the fact that while her tormentor had mass, Satou had actual muscle plus fighting skill, was enough to set the guy straight, as he'd sulked back to his table, pale as a sheet.

The male hadn't given her anymore trouble that night, but after shift, Uraraka had been pulled aside by a concerned Satou. After assuring him that it hadn't gone any farther than what he'd seen and that no, she hadn't been hurt, just really shaken up, he'd let her go. Though, not without offering some parting words and possible options. "Guys don't try that stuff on you outside of here, right?" She'd reassured him that they hadn't, the only creeps she'd ever had to deal with had been during shift hours, and not often, either. He'd shaken his head, as he'd slung his backpack onto his hefty shoulders.

"But you shouldn't have to be putting up with them in the first place...damn that Monoma. I knew he was kind of a dick in school, but this is ridiculous. Whatever views he may have on Quirklessness, he can't be putting his workers in harm's way. I'd tell you to look for another job, honestly, but..."

He'd looked at her then with a saddened, heavy expression. "You said it took you forever just to finally find your way here and be accepted, right?" She'd nodded.

A hand had been clasped on her shoulder then, and Uraraka had done her best to hold back the wobble that had nearly wracked her tiny figure. Compared to him, she was practically doll-sized. "If anything like that happens again, or anything close to it – you come to me, alright? No ifs, ands or buts. I don't care what Monoma says. I'm not gonna let you get treated like that." Although Uraraka had offered him a warm smile of gratitude and a "Thank you", she knew inside that she wouldn't be able to take him up on his offer.

It was bad enough when Monoma yelled at her. But when he got involved with her and her coworkers, that made it even worse. Because he knew she felt bad seeing others getting called out on her behalf, and he made sure to rub it in. Aside from Kendo, who could mostly shrug him off, everybody else just had to put up with it. They'd tell her afterwards that it was okay, that's just the way he was, it wasn't her fault, they didn't mind helping. Even then, Uraraka couldn't help feeling guilty.

She just...had to get stronger. She had to learn to present herself better, as someone others couldn't push around so easily. Maybe she was giving off an aura that led others to believe she made for a good target? If so, she had to stop it immediately. Maybe there were some other things that she could learn, some physical actions that would have more of an impact, without getting her in hot water? It was a real balancing act; although she needed the extra means to protect herself, in the regular workforce, outside of heroics, women weren't expected to be armed to the teeth. That just wasn't proper in Japan. Her Mother had done her best to find a way around it, but...

Uraraka didn't want others always having to come save her, or clean up her messes. She was a big girl now, and one who was effectively at a disadvantage in this world. She'd just been blessed that her assaulter hadn't attempted to use his Quirk on Satou – because more than likely, he'd had one, he'd just been too drunk to remember it.

Stronger. That's what it always came down to, didn't it? She wasn't as strong as everyone else. It was as though she were playing a never-ending game with a permanent handicap. Uraraka could do just about everything else the same as the rest of the world, she just wasn't looked at like they were. She was different. She was weaker. She was _broken_. She **_wasn't good enough_**. Not yet, anyway.

But one day...one day, she'd have it all figured out. One day, she'd be living the life she always wanted, whatever it may be, and then nobody could look down their noses at her anymore. One day, she'd find her place in the world, make a better living for herself, and be truly happy, just like how her parents wanted her to be. No more jumping through hoops and making excuses. One day...one day...

Amazingly, dinner service went by without much incident. A couple of guys had tried to get her number, but she'd turned them down politely with one of her patented lines, and they'd accepted it. One woman had been a bit snippy with her – she'd seemed rather possessive of her date, who'd been staring almost obsessively at Uraraka. But she hadn't been any different with her service and demeanor towards them – if anything, she might've been slightly distant, but that was mostly because she didn't enjoy being viewed like a piece of meat. Eventually though, they'd come and gone, a new set of patrons arriving in their place.

Food had left the kitchen at a brisk pace, just like any other night, and as usual the gathered customers had no complaints. Aside from Satou as head chef in the kitchen, there was also Murakami Shiro, an accomplished cook in his own right who had a Quirk relating to timing. He was punctual and precise down to the nanosecond. No matter where he was, he could instinctively tell the time, and as such was a perfect judge at judging how long food needed to be cooked for. They didn't need clocks in relation to their meals, or even just to follow the hour.

He kept flawless track of things, so they could have orders going out exactly when was needed at a brisk pace. He was highly sensitive to certain outside stimulus, however - heavy smoke, thick food scents, alcohol in particular. Overwhelming smells were all enough to disorient him. It was important that he remember to keep a ventilation mask in reach, in case of certain meals, or having to tend to the bar - he also mixed drinks for the business.

The other chef was Higuchi Keito, a former delinquent who'd managed to turn things around to pursue a career in the culinary arts. His Quirk caused large blades to come out from his arms. Truly dangerous if wielded, but quite useful in a kitchen setting. He was content to spend his time chopping up vegetables, or tenderizing meat into submission when the blades were retracted - the undersides of his upper limbs were rough and solid from the sharp edges always being unsheathed.

He just had to stay focused - if startled too often, it could cause his arms to go out of whack, and it would become harder to wield the blades due to increased heart rate and tremors. He was quiet and productive, though some sort of communication was kept up, to make sure everyone was on the same page. So long as it wasn't aggressive, rushed or intrusive, it was fine.

It had been nearing the end of the night shift, at long last. Uraraka had just seen off another table, and was currently tidying up the area before the busboy came by to finish it off. Some servers in the past – who hadn't stuck around for very long, thank goodness – wouldn't bother to do that much, and it was frustrating for the cleaners who came up afterwards.

They didn't expect the waitstaff to do their job, but there was an unspoken, mutual understanding between them, that before the table was to be turned over for the final wipe down, the servers would at least do the barest minimum of organizing. Then, they'd take over the rest, i.e the dirtier work.

She proceeded to make her way towards the back, to drop her rag in the bucket and soak it up for another round – she'd already cleared off five tabletops, and there were still six others that hadn't yet been gotten to by Kendo or the other guy on dinner rush tonight, a newbie with a Quirk that allowed him to never get dizzy. Great for a fast-paced job like this, as long as he took a mandatory three minute's pause for every fifty turns he did, otherwise he wouldn't be able to stop spinning.

Then, it happened. She'd been forced to a halt suddenly, as a dark, thick and rather smelly figure obscured her way.

Letting out a soft sigh, Uraraka prepared to make her way around the male; he seemed a bit wobbly, so he was probably inebriated. "Excuse me," she spoke, but as she slipped around, a hand was grabbing hold of her right wrist, and yanking her back sharply. Oh, no. Not another one of these situations...

Trying not to make a scene, Uraraka flashed the male her most charming smile she could manage, as she struggled to, gently but firmly, pry off his almost iron grip. "Sir, if you'll pardon me, I have some work to attend to. Is there something you require assistance with...?" That was when she'd gotten a look at his face.

Drunk. Yes, he was definitely drunk. But, unlike the guy who'd given her trouble how long before, he certainly wasn't about to put the moves on anybody anytime soon. He was sweating like he were in a sauna, and his pallor was a faded, sickly shade of green. Uraraka recognized that look all too well. This guy had obviously knocked back more than a few, probably more than he could handle, and was in desperate need of a bathroom – or, if nothing else, an alleyway.

Now, her attempts at loosening his grip were all the more pronounced. Although she felt bad for whoever had to clean up afterwards, it was better than the alternative of him retching all over the carpet in the dining area. "Sir, if you need a restroom, there's one in the back, just off to -"

She didn't get a chance to finish, as he gave her a vacant, questioning, queasy stare. "Honey...?" was the last thing that came from his mouth, before the gag. Uraraka knew he wasn't about to let go, so she did the next best thing she could: lean back.

Boy, what an explosion. The aftermath wasn't really the greatest feeling, either. He'd gone and spewed directly on her and the floor between them, which included both of their shoes. But the majority of the putrid fluids were dripping down the front of her blouse, vest, half-apron, and skirt. She could already feel it beginning to soak through the fabric, and the smell was horrific. As Uraraka tried not to stare in fixated disbelief and disgust, the man finally let her go to take a step back, and wipe his mouth on his jacket sleeve. Yuck.

Just then, a frantic pair of female voices called out. "Dear!" One of them belonged to an older woman who, upon closer inspection, Uraraka had to admit, somewhat resembled her. Short brown hair, small frame. She was obviously upset, as she took his hand to lead him away, and even more so upon seeing the mess he'd left in his wake.

"Oh, my..." Giving Uraraka a look of pure sorrow, she began to apologize profusely, bowing repeatedly. "I'm so sorry – it's our anniversary tonight, and my husband, you see – he's a light drinker, but he got carried away in the moment – oh, I'm so sorry! Can it be cleaned? How much will it cost?"

The other voice belonged to none other than Kendo, who had just come from up at the front of the restaurant, discussing something with Monoma about the numbers on one of the tables. Upon seeing the scene, she was immediately at Uraraka's side, braving the smell as she assessed the situation. Giving the woman a wide smile, Kendo quickly brushed aside the offers. "No, it's perfectly fine, don't worry – we can handle this! Just, please, both of you - have a wonderful rest of the night, and be safe! Please take care of him, alright?" As the woman apologized once more before leading her husband away, Kendo was already dragging Uraraka towards the bathroom.

"Jeez, just how much did that guy knock back? Oh, yuck – looks like he had one of the pasta dishes, too. So gross..." Uraraka was still in a bit of shock, but Kendo wasn't prodding her for a response, simply grabbing as many paper towels from the dispenser as she could, wetting some while leaving the others dry. With quick rapid strokes, she began wiping off the puke from her coworker's uniform.

Well. And just when the night had been going so smoothly. Here Uraraka had seriously thought that things would actually end on a high note, as opposed to last evening's ridiculously long shift, and then the subsequent traffic jam plus late arrival at home, leading to a lack of sleep into the morning. Was she just cursed or something?

"Alright, let's see...I got most of the crud off, but yeah, it stinks, and there are stains. It'll have to be washed. Just go and change, and start heading home." Throwing out the final paper towel, Kendo proceeded to scrub her hands, looking Uraraka straight in the eye. "Take it with you, and clean it the first chance you get – the sooner the better. I'll tell Monoma what happened, so if he has a problem, he can take it up with me. Okay?"

At this, Uraraka finally came to, regarding her friend with both gratitude and worry. "Ken - Itsuka-chan...are you sure?" In return, she received a firm nod. Uraraka gave her one in acknowledgement, though it wasn't nearly as certain. Nonetheless, she was still appreciative to her friend. "Thank you...so much. Yeah, I think I will just...leave, and chuck this in the machine."

Wandering out of the bathroom almost in a daze, though she was very aware of her surroundings now, Uraraka carefully switched back to her casual wear. Wondering how exactly she was going to transport her soiled clothes, she was answered by Kendo popping in, with a plastic bag to store everything in. Offering one more thank you, Uraraka headed out into the cool night, air ghosting over her face like a loving caress. It only helped to chill her skin under her tank, where the wet paper towels had soaked through the fabric of her blouse.

Right about now, that hot-air Quirk from this morning seemed like a **_really_** good thing to have on hand.

 **A/N: Okay. First things first.  
**

 **Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, to the lovely people who sent in feedback after that rambling Author's Note went up as the previous Chapter Two. Whether it was positive towards the story, constructive critique, or even support towards my current situation, all of it just...truly, from the bottom of my heart: THANK YOU.I've actually managed to complete two new Chapters following this one, and am hard at work on the fifth. Hopefully, that one will be finished by the next update, and I'll have either started or complete the sixth one following it. My muse is shaky, but she is there. I've just gotta keep encouraging her.  
**

 **Things are...still rough on my end ATM. I'm actually struggling to figure out where I'm going to stay rn before or by September 9th; I have to leave where I am then, & if I haven't found a new place...I have to go back to the house I ran away from, & stay w/the ones who don't want me there. Which has me scared shitless, if I'm allowed to say so.  
**

 **In the last week or so, I've ALSO managed to piss off at least four different friends, both in relation to this situation, and outside of it. Rn, I don't really trust myself to interact w/anyone, so I've pretty much withdrawn from all socialization or asking to talk. I'm even...scared, of some of my friends now...b/c of their reactions.**

 **I...REALLY don't do good w/aggressive behaviors & confrontation...b/c of past experiences. I know they only got angry b/c they care, just...that doesn't change the fact that I'm still dealing w/trauma relating to prior incidents w/this kind of conduct against me, & whatever the intention on their ends here, this caused damages. I've had nightmares about this kind of stuff for years, & unfortunately, now they've come true. **

**More than anything, I'm frustrated at myself, for being so weak & useless as to trigger such reactions in them. I can't stand disappointing others, ESPECIALLY my only support system out here, since my 'family' doesn't have my back...I'm ashamed of myself for not working harder. B/c I've been trying to sort all this out, I wasn't able to update last week Tuesday, like I'd been planning to. Not even yesterday either, b/c as it now turns out, I am sick. For all of this, I apologize.**

 **Anyway...on to the Chapter itself. How was this? Like I mentioned before, this IS an AU, in the future, but w/certain events happening at later times, & various characters in different roles. I was trying to make this more 'realistic', in a sense...what if, even w/all the hero training & experience, some just couldn't get their careers to take off? I thought about it in the manner of studying in school for a degree: just b/c you earn one, doesn't automatically mean you're gonna get the job you want, right out of the gate. **

**HOWEVER, even if not everybody may be at 'hero' status here, that DOESN'T mean they're unimportant, or meant to be OOC. The characters I've introduced here, in this particular setup...I feel like w/their stories & personalities, this sort of setup can work around them. I still kept references to their time at UA though, & intended to show how, even if they're not pro heroes, their Quirks still have a point & place. They can still help.**

 **I also hope the relationships I have here don't seem too weird, or out of the blue? Uraraka strikes me as a sociable person, & I haven't seen her have any real issues w/any of the kids at UA in canon. At the same time, this is a situation where Uraraka has no Quirk, & is an adult, meeting these people as strangers. Even in a professional future setting, I do think relationships can build, even if the characters in question don't necessarily have the most interactions w/each other in the source material. Kendo honestly reminds me of a motherly or big sister type, while Satou seems genuinely sweet, & even w/out wanting to be a hero, would want to help others in some way.**

 **Besides...these two don't really get a lot of screen time in canon, so...I think it's good to focus on different perspectives.**

 **And then...there's Monoma...**

 **I don't hate him. Really, I don't. Yes, I think he's got ego issues, & is currently a real jerk. But he got into UA for a reason, & even w/out becoming a hero, he'd still be able to land on his feet, IMO. Just...IDK if that would necessarily curb his attitude problems. If anything, it might make them worse...& I know he's being a real a-hole to Uraraka here, ESPECIALLY in regards to her treatment by certain customers.**

 **HOWEVER...I actually do have some plans for him further down the line, that DON'T involve him just being humiliated & bashed on. I know he seems like an easy choice as an antagonist, but...I wanna give him a little more to do than that. The REAL villains have yet to show their faces...though even then, Uraraka is still being kept on her toes.**

 **I was REALLY worried, w/this particular Chapter, that Uraraka might come across as...too much of a pushover, particularly w/the confrontation involving the drunk customer? I can see her wanting to lash out, but ultimately holding back b/c she needs the job to survive. HOWEVER, I DON'T see her just allowing someone to put their hands on her & have their way; even if she can't fight them off, she'll still put up a fight, &, God forbid it turns out that way, but go down fighting, too. **

**Eventually, once the story kicks into gear, I want to start showing Uraraka becoming a stronger person, through the various new experiences she'll go through, as well as finding the true power hidden inside of her. I don't want her being constantly rescued by others, Quirkless or not. She'll learn new ways to handle what life throws at her, & be a 'hero' in her own right...just give it time.**

 **As always, feedback is welcomed, appreciated & encouraged. I went back over Chapter One since getting those Reviews, & touched up a few things here & there. A few things were missed by me upon first writing & editing the Chapter, so thanks for pointing them out. Next time: Uraraka just wants to relax, & forget the troubles of her day. Unfortunately, sleep won't be coming easy, & a new challenge is about to come flying into her life, quite literally...**

 **Take care, everybody.**


	3. Drop The Bomb

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku no Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the original artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

When Uraraka unlocked the thick door to her abode, dragging herself through the entryway, she was operating on a sort of disgruntled autopilot. Luckily, the train ride home this time hadn't been compromised, so it had been a straight thirty-minute trip from the city, where the restaurant was nestled, back to her neighborhood, where her cherished home was tucked away.

After kicking off her shoes – she could put them in the box later – she'd shoved her feet into her house slippers, dropped her purse beside the couch, and headed promptly towards the back room, past the kitchen, where the laundry facilities were located. Practically throwing the bag with her stained uniform on the floor in front of the washer, she proceeded to do something she'd never done, in all her life: strip down in front of the machinery, to chuck her plain clothes inside as well.

She couldn't stand another second of wearing anything that reminded her of what had happened before, and even if her regular clothes weren't stained, there were most likely faint traces of the mess and dampness that had seeped through to her skin, and in turn clung to her outfit from the morning. Once she'd filled the system with both dirty laundry and soap, setting it to operate for however long it'd take to get everything out, she'd marched out of the room, still naked as a newborn in the semi-darkness.

Remembering to deposit the remaining pastries from the morning into her fridge - that was kind of awkward, feeling the cold of the fridge air against her skin - she'd flown up the stairs, stumbled into her room, and grabbed the first pair of fresh clothes and underwear to throw on. But only after she'd had a nice, long, hot shower.

Sinking into the steaming water that swirled around the wide tub, Uraraka exhaled loudly and slowly, gradually feeling the tensions and grime of the day slide off of her skin and out of her body. Nearly burying herself up to the nose in the water's edge, she watched from the corner of her eyes, as the longer bits of her hair floated about on the surface of the bathwater. With a deep breath in, she dropped her whole head beneath, coming back up after a few moments with a gasp and cough. Now fully drenched, she allowed only the sounds of the dripping tap, her own breathing, and steady heartbeat to echo in the still, foggy air.

This was the first time, in all her years of working there, that she'd ever had anything like this happen to her. Oh sure, she'd heard people puking in the toilets before. She'd seen people heaving out back, or even in the gutter directly outside the establishment. Heck, once or twice she'd watched someone puke their guts out somewhere in the dining area or bar – and woe to whoever was on janitorial duties that night, especially after Monoma had finished his tight-lipped ranting. And if she wasn't hearing and seeing these things, then she'd be learning about them through word-of-mouth the next day, because on a few occasions, this stuff had happened on Sundays, her lone day off.

To be thrown up on, as though she were...oh, somebody's parent or something, with a little baby, and right out in the open, too! She wasn't mad at the man who'd done it, just...why did he have to run into her, at that moment? Why couldn't he have collected himself enough to at least find the bathroom, or one of the corners to spew into? Why did he have to hold her in place? Why did she just happen to look reminiscent of his wife, of all people? If he hadn't grabbed her, would he have found someone else instead? Had he been looking for his wife...to spit up on her instead? What would that have solved?

 _Jeez...what a way to celebrate an anniversary, though._ If he'd thrown up on his wife over her, then they would've had a much harder time enjoying the rest of their night. Even if the experience ultimately sucked, on her end, she could rest easy in the fact that it was her dealing with it, and not someone else, someone who would've had far more than she to lose for the remainder of the evening.

All this meant for her was that, yes, she had to wash her uniform, and when she arrived back at her job, bright and early Monday morning, she'd most likely get an earful from Monoma for leaving before her shift ended. Even if Kendo explained the situation and backed her up, the woman couldn't always protect her. Uraraka would just have to face the music then.

At least she had an extra day to prepare for it, though. Tomorrow was her free day, so she could sleep in a little, and drown out the memories of her stress, disgust and embarrassment, via the comfort of her thick, squeaky bed, battered pillows, and full patchy comforter. Yeah, she'd moved into her parents' room a while after they'd passed. Perhaps it was some sort of coping mechanism for her, she didn't know. But being in that room, practically swimming in the reassuring sensations and memories, was enough to set her mind at peace.

After scrubbing up and down and rinsing off, Uraraka drained the tub and toweled herself dry, changing into fresh clothes and padding down the hall to her adopted space. All of her personal items were in her old room; she just used her parents' room for the bed and feelings it invoked. Glancing over briefly at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, still scattered with personal effects from her Mother, she decided that, even if her hair was mostly dry, she didn't have the energy to bother brushing it out to keep the tangles at bay for the next morning.

It didn't matter if anything would be sticking up all over the place, like a frizzy, uneven mop. She had nowhere to go, and nobody to impress, for a whole day.

"Whew..." Collapsing like a stone straight into the bed, the worn springs creaked and groaned, as she crawled upwards towards the pillows, pulling the covers down to snuggle beneath like a worm. A faint trace of a wistful smile tickled the corner of her lips, at the old memory she had of the times she'd stayed in her parents' room with them to share their bed – usually if she'd had a bad dream. On a couple of occasions, there had been thunderstorms, and being a smaller, younger Ochako, she hadn't understood that the pounding rains and loud booms, flashing cracks of light across the sky, were nothing to be afraid of.

A quick shake of the head then, as Uraraka allowed her head to sink into the pillows. No, she wouldn't think about that now. Not in her safe space. Her thoughts returned to those sweet moments from childhood, about how, in the mornings, when it was time for her parents' to make the bed, she would roll and wiggle around, wrapping herself up like a bug in a cocoon. Her Mother would chuckle softly, gently letting her know that they couldn't fix the blankets if there was an Ochako-pillar in the sheets.

She'd giggle and stick out her tongue playfully, saying things like "But I wanna become a pretty flutterby!" As a kid, she'd had weird ways of saying certain words. In response, her Father would smile down at her, bending to poke the tip of her nose, before reaching under the covers to pull her out and swing her over onto his back. Her laughter and shrieks of excited joy would ring throughout the house, as he'd head downstairs with her on his shoulders.

"Nah, Ochako-chan. You don' have t'hide away. You're a beautiful flutterby already. And one day, yer gonna fly high above us, above all the world, like the wonderful li'l lady you are." Those was her parents, indulging her youthful mannerisms. The response would always make her grin, as she'd raise up her arms, like a little daredevil. Her Father's grip never wavered; not once had she ever fallen from his grasp.

 _A beautiful butterfly, eh...?_ As much as she loved her parents, right now, she didn't feel much like a beautiful anything. Was she still perhaps the little caterpillar, hiding in her tightly woven cocoon, waiting until she'd finally grown up into a proper person? The person she was meant to be? Who was that, anyway?

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and they lazily traveled over the outlines of items she could glimpse from her position in the shadows. The faintest traces of moonlight filtered into the window; the streetlamps didn't reach this far back in the cul-de-sac. Even if her house was the one at the very end, there was enough distance between it and the rest that most people didn't even bother coming this far. Some postal workers had had issues in the past, not being sure whether or not the street actually had anything beyond the last visible address.

It didn't matter, though. None of it mattered now. Uraraka's brown eyes were growing heavy with the whispers of sleep, a much-needed rest after her ridiculous shift the night before, and the calamitous service she'd endured this evening. She'd savor every last drop of it – she'd more than earned it. In the security of her blankets and her parents' domain, in this, the house they'd built, for themselves and her...she would drift into slumber, protected if only temporarily against the tyrants, toxins and travesties of the world beyond her front door.

She hadn't even bothered cooking anything for dinner; she'd be paying for it the next morning with hunger pains, emphasis on the 'pain', but it was okay. Soon enough, she'd be heading off to war again...but for the time being, she'd relish in her freedom, and the chance to lay down her arms.

In a few more minutes, Uraraka was out cold.

 **…...**

Bakugou Katsuki hadn't been expecting to get back to regular hero work first with a whimper instead of a bang.

Bakugou Katsuki hadn't been expecting to be drowning in paperwork of unfinished, unfilled reports, thrown to the side before, and eventually thrown to the side again. He'd stormed out into the streets, because fuck it, he had better things to do.

Bakugou Katsuki hadn't been expecting such a slow, shitty day of patrol. A sickeningly boring day, to the point that he'd extended his and his partner Kirishima Eijirou's rounds by another few hours. The redhead hadn't quite understood it, but hadn't been willing to argue with his hotheaded friend and colleague. After all, he'd only just been reinstated to full hero duties since his temporary restraining order from a prior incident of collateral damage and mouthing off to authorities in the heat of the moment. He'd just consider this extra laps. Nothing wrong with extending leg day.

Bakugou Katsuki hadn't been expecting to force himself to the changing room in their agency either, well after the sun had gone down, utterly defeated by a day of absolute nothing. A pathetic return to his status as one of the best (up-and-coming) heroes on the scene currently, only second to the older, established pros (though not for much longer).

But, none of that could've possibly prepared Bakugou Katsuki for the ultimate moment of redemption:

A sudden all-points bulletin about a villain sighting in the city. Close by their station. An enemy which turned out, of all things, to be one that was not only insanely powerful and terrifying, but who hadn't been seen in almost ten years. Not since his first term at UA.

As if Bakugou was going to comment or complain about any of that, though. He'd been through the door and on the streets, a human bullet propelled by the fires of hell – almost literally, if you considered his Quirk – before Kirishima had even been able to register the entirety of the situation. Bolting after his short-tempered co-manager, the male could only curse as he struggled to keep up; wouldn't it have been nice if somehow, his hardening Quirk could've given him a speed boost too, depending on its application?

This was the story of their lives, in a nutshell. Had been from the beginning, and always would be, as soon as they'd taken their first steps into the hero academy: expect the unexpected. Their class was one of the strongest, not to mention the most infamous. It was in front of them in their Freshman year that this opponent had first materialized, after all – it and its twisted creators.

A Noumu. Nearly a decade following those first turbulent battles with the League of Villains, and their subsequent disappearance. Here was a Noumu, in the flesh; a mindless, artificially created but brutally empowered monster with who knew how many Quirks, in search of a worthy opponent...or just a target in close reach. I.e, any of the remaining populace in the city.

Bakugou was more than happy to provide its entertainment for the night, however. Even while encountering them, he'd never gotten the chance to actually test his skills and capabilities against one. Being a student without a Hero License, or even a Provisional License, at the time, most likely had a lot to do with that. The other part was simply being a student to begin with.

Now, though...oh, he was going to **_savor_** this moment. That fabricated chimera bastard wouldn't know what hit it when he got through with its sorry ass. If it had an ass.

Especially after the grief its owners had caused him, as well. He still held a grudge about that, the position they'd forced on him. Humiliating, and potentially damaging, causing both the mass media and population to distrust him as any sort of heroic figure, let alone as a person. Those persistent wannabes had the nerve to crash a training session outside of UA, and kidnap him – _him_ , of all people, like he were some Quirkless loser! They were the ones to be threatened, not him! He was the one who gave the orders, issued the challenges. Anyone who tried to step up, but couldn't get on his level, could shove it and eat shit.

He'd been more than willing to beat his way out of their crappy little hideout, too; that dinky bar that didn't even look like it had decent spirits in stock behind the counter. Not that Bakugou had engaged in much underage drinking, mind you. He just had good eyes. If the pros hadn't shown up when they did, and blown the wall out after knocking politely at the door, he would have. He'd have torn off every last one of that skinny halfwit's freakish hands, secured to his body, and beaten him senseless with them, before going another few rounds with his fists.

The nerve of them...the nerve of them...! Making him look weak...targeting him...his classmates...the higher-ups...requiring him to be rescued, so pathetically...

And All Might...All Might, too...on that night...

One day, he'd hopefully get his wish – to punch out the lights of every last one of those League of Villains fuck-faces, and then blast them all to kingdom come. Even if that wasn't a very 'honorable' thing of a hero to do, he didn't care. It wasn't like the world would be hurting without having them around to screw things up.

Bakugou had never claimed to be the same when it came to his heroics. Social skills and rescue were not his strong selling points. Kirishima usually handled the former, while he begrudgingly dealt with the latter as it came, biting his tongue as hard as he possibly could without severing it clean off. He was a throw down first, ask questions later – much later – kind of guy. If someone was stirring up trouble, then they'd deal with the consequences. Namely, his boot in their ass, and a blast to the face. He didn't need a weapon to send his message, either.

Granted, it wasn't as though he still set out to get into confrontations with others, now that he was an adult running his own hero agency. After all, it was that lack of sympathy and empathy which had kept him from earning his Provisional License the first time around. He knew that he had to, at his very base and best, keep a level head when dealing with those caught in the crossfire of conflict or disaster. He wasn't nearly as trigger-happy as he'd been when he'd been attending UA back in the day.

However. He sure as hell was not clipped or cowed in any way, shape, fashion or form. He was willing to compromise on a few things, here and there. Just a few. But **_never_** would he concede. Defeat was not a word that existed in his vocabulary. He was a winner through and through. Whether it be battles, or his own core beliefs.

Perhaps that was one good reason why he was still so bitter over his interactions with that team of miscreant misfits? _Because_ he'd had to kowtow to them; when they'd captured him, when they'd had him strapped into that damn chair, when they'd effectively cornered him in the bar, ready to strike just to break him down and mold him to their whims and designs? He knew he could've taken care of himself, and them too, yet the chance had been thoroughly stripped from his grasp.

With this now, the arrival of the inky-bodied motherfucker that was roaring, stomping and stumbling ahead of him, tearing up the streets in its wake, terrifying the remaining crowds below as they struggled to get out of its way...

...could he effectively consider this their comeback? The return of the League? Or...had someone else gotten a hold of the formula for creating deranged super-beasts with an appetite sorely for destruction? Had someone else been in cahoots with that disfigured twat-waffle, All For One? Just how many delinquent rejects had he fostered under his tainted wings?

Bakugou would figure that out later; for now, blood was on his mind, and guided by his sweaty palms, karma was going to be a real bitch tonight. What a way to kick off a reinstatement from house arrest.

"HAH!" With a sharp blast from his palms, the blond practically did a parkour performance up the side of an apartment wall, before leaping down to bounce off the awning above the door, and swing around a lamp post. With another explosion, he had sprung forward another yard or two, nearly in reach of that diseased looking beast. The roads were full of cracks and holes, leaving many pieces of upturned rubble in their wake.

Aiming his palm towards one pile of debris in the ground, Bakugou proceeded to rush ahead before firing off the next blast. Jumping up on a large chunk of asphalt that flew towards the sky, he shot off another explosion below him, propelling the boulder even higher. Leaping ahead off of it, one more blast put him in range of that fucker's skull, and its exposed brain. Letting out a yell of pure rage and fury, he clawed his way through the short expanse of air towards its shoulder, grabbing a hold with one hand, and digging in his gloved fingers as deep as they could reach.

The creature sounded off a garbled cry, and Bakugou knew he had to act fast – he wasn't privy to what Quirks this bastard had up its sleeve, and any one of them could instantly make his life a helluva lot harder than it already was. _If it has a hardening Quirk like Shitty-Hair, or any sort of regeneration, like the first one did, I swear-!_

With a growl that seeped between a painfully grit grin, Bakugou pressed his free palm against the monster's back, arm stretched as far away from his own person as he could manage, before firing off a rapid barrage of shots straight into its spine and left shoulder blade. Roaring, the Noumu began to thrash, reaching behind with one bulky hand to pry off its tormentor, while its body continued to shift wildly from side to side.

With only one grip clutching on for dear life, Bakugou knew he had to do something to gain the higher ground. Even with the way this sucker was practically dancing like he had an old-school disease, was it possible for him to climb up further? If his aim had been just a tad better, maybe he could've landed up top on its shoulder, with a clear shot at its brain. But hey, for his first time taking on one of these shitheads, he would say he was doing damn well. Any pro hero would have to be impressed with his efforts here.

Which reminded him – he'd left the ones who'd been in the area before him eating dust how long ago. Some of them had Quirks that just hadn't been suitable for the battle – for example, abilities that took a little bit to charge up or activate – while others simply hadn't known what they were truly up against. Every hero knew what a Noumu looked like, but not everyone knew how to fight one.

Technically, that had extended to him, too. He'd just jumped right in, not waiting for any further info from those gathered, or even from backup, in the form of his redheaded partner. Where was that slow bastard, anyway? Maybe he'd decided to stay behind with the others, possibly call for backup? Tch, that wasn't very 'manly' of him. That's what Hair-For-Brains would say, right? His famous catchphrase for damn near every situation.

"Whoa-!" Just then, the claws on his opponent's meaty grip had caught his left shoulder, tearing a nice gash across the bare skin. Letting out a snarl of anger, not pain, Bakugou did his best to hold on, while lifting his injured arm upwards, taking aim at that stupid blockhead's, well...head! Firing off another three rounds, Bakugou was finally forced to let go, as the Noumu swung itself about violently, driving its right side towards the pavement in a slam. Unless the blond relished the thought of becoming an explosive pancake, it was in his best interest to move.

Skidding to a stop on the one patch of road that hadn't been utterly decimated, red eyes met wide, bulging white, with tiny darkened pupils. The monster titled its head slightly, taking in his immobile form carefully. Its mouth was pulled up in that stupid grimace, and all Bakugou wanted to do at that moment was smash its teeth in. Why was it looking at him like that...?! If it wasn't gonna start moving again, then he'd be more than happy to pick back up where they'd left off!

Cocking his head and making a motion with his hand, Bakugou flashed the cretin a smirk of pure contempt and venom. "Why don't ya come over here?" His deep red gaze narrowed then, intent becoming darker. "I still have a bone t'pick with you and your crew, after all."

A crackling, wheezing sound filled the air then, and it took Bakugou a moment to realize: the beast was trying to laugh. However, he didn't get a chance to retaliate, as it immediately began charging. He couldn't see whether the marks behind remained, but right now, he couldn't focus on that. All he could do was keep its attention, and deal out as much damage as he could – enough so that, if the fucker had a healing factor, he could render it effectively useless against his itchy trigger finger.

The Noumu's tongue was lolling out of its mouth as it rushed him, still making those God-awful sounds. With a sharp jump and roll to his left, Bakugou was able to dodge its ramming attack. Now he just had to avoid its swinging clawed meat-hooks on the ends of its long arms. It seemed to be pleased with his actions and declaration of war, though. Good, good. All eyes on him.

Another heavy strike, another coordinated leap, this time followed by a powerful blast from his amplified palms to its hand. The creature let out a yelp, yanking it away and twisting partially. In this moment, Bakugou got a look at its back. The wounds were halfway healed.

 _Only half...?_ So, it had some sort of healing Quirk, but...it didn't work completely? What did that mean? Was it just slow as balls? Watching as the wound to its hand showed no signs of disappearing, Bakugou wasn't sure what to think, other than _get out of the way!_ as the Noumu sprung up into the air, before diving down towards him feet first in a pointed spin. He'd just barely managed to dodge it, the resounding crash shaking up the area, causing a few buildings to wobble. Luckily, he managed to keep his balance.

Noting that the surroundings were starting to look a bit worse for the wear, and remembering that he'd just gotten back his duties after an extreme case of tasting chaos collaterally, on his part, Bakugou was trying to figure out which direction to lead the bugger. Anywhere at a good distance from the main metropolis hub sounded good, it was just a matter of which road to take a chance on.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. "Oi, Bakugou! You alright? Why the hell did'ja bolt from all of us?!" _**Seriously?!**_ Of all times to lecture him, fucking Shitty Hair decided that now was the most fitting moment?! Whirling around to quickly regard his partner – mostly from being pissed at losing his train of thought - Bakugou was about to send a short and quite biting comment his way about lousy entrances and interruptions.

But he didn't get to. The Noumu had decided to take advantage of his brief lapse in attention – damn his short fuse, sometimes it really got the better of him! - and struck out once more, this time with an extra extended arm. So, stretching body parts was a part of his Quirk repertoire, too? Useful to know, now if only he hadn't been caught off-guard by it! Kirishima was so going to pay for this later...!

A string of curses left the blond's mouth, as he went flying. The back of his top was shredded, claws having raked across even worse than the one line along his bicep. Tumbling a couple of yards, Bakugou was reeling from having been effectively hurled like a rag-doll. Everything was hurting, while his spinal area was stinging, warm blood dripping down in streams. But that wasn't enough to keep him down for the count.

However, a few loose screws, blurry vision, and mild nausea might make his bearing a tad harder to regain. Attempting to shake away the birds and stars that were currently assaulting his eyesight, he could just barely make out a shaky figure in motion, and...that goddamn monster's injured hand. The wound from earlier was beginning to heal. Instantly, even in his rattled thoughts, it clicked for Bakugou.

This Noumu healed its own damages by inflicting injury on others. For every successful strike, it regained its health. Most likely, the remains of the burns he'd left on its shoulder blades were fading as well. Talk about fucking video game logic. Why was it equipped with such a Quirk in the first place, when all its brethren had been given straight-up regeneration? Why did such an ability exist at all? Maybe it would be useful for someone who was particularly prone to bloodbaths – in short, a villain-type. What degenerate had been dredged up to discover that wonder?

Were its creators experimenting? Or just stupid? Perhaps someone else had taken over the mass-production after all...getting second-rate and unpredictable powers that might not have even gotten a chance to activate at all, if Bakugou had managed to avoid a single scratch on his person.

The last of those stubborn, twittering idiots refused to leave him alone – since when had his sustained blows resulted in cartoon-like symptoms? - and the Noumu, mainly restored or close to it, was already on the warpath once more. Fighting to stand up on his usually sturdy legs, no matter if they were a bit wobbly this time – it was the fucking birds, goddamn it! - Bakugou was wracking his mind for an instant counter-strategy. That bastard was closing in!

"Rrgh!" He didn't have to worry, though. In a flash of red, with a hard thunk, Kirishima was directly in front of him, effectively acting as a shield. His left arm was raised, hardened to a high degree. Enough so that the Noumu was not only shoved off, nearly bouncing off the surface, but hurt as well. The contact wasn't strong to the point of drawing blood, but it got a cry out of the creature. Kirishima's boot-clad feet shifted in the road, said surface cracking from the slam of pressure, but he stood his ground. Turning around, he was regarding Bakugou with a look of disbelief, worry and frustration. _Ugh, stop staring like that!_

"You crazy ass! What were you thinking, bolting from the crowd?! You want your glory, and trust me – if there's anybody who wants a piece of these guys, I know it's you! But we're a team, damn it!" Throwing down his hand in assistance, the redhead let out an exasperated huff. "Look at you – you're like a cat's toy! If you're gonna take on this guy, the least you could've done was wait for me!"

Bakugou's answer was to slap his hand away, force himself to his feet at long last, and offer him a burning, seething gaze, graced by a hungry grin. Tasting the copper flavor of blood in his mouth, the blond spit towards the ground, before shrugging his shoulders forward, and cracking his neck. The stupid birds had finally flown the coop. His verbal reply was all too expected.

"I wait for no one. 'Stead of running your mouth, you should've worked on your legs more. Now take up a stance, and fucking fight." The Noumu was surveying both of them, as if trying to decide which one it wanted to strike down more. At least this temporary pause allowed them to regroup, and figure out a solid strategy. "You got here before everyone else. They wouldn't just give up on the pursuit. Where are they?"

Kirishima was eyeing the dark creature before them, body already solidifying out of reflex. "You saw what happened earlier. Those guys didn't have the right Quirks for the job. So they're calling in a second wave. Whoever they can grab from the pros – either nearby, or who can get here the fastest. Until then, we're the only resistance." He swallowed hard. "Or cannon fodder."

Bakugou's eyes were rapidly scanning the surroundings, counting how many paths out there were. "Fuck that! We'll take this shit-heel out ourselves! We don't need backup!" The ones closest, including the one he'd come from, obviously led back into the heart of the city. They were useless to him. He needed something that was away from the crowds. Braving a glance behind him for a second, his wild red-eyed stare landed on a distant structure.

The train station. That wasn't his main focus, though. What he was interested in was what lay beyond it.

This was one of the first stops on its route out. Further beyond, there were more rural areas. Yes, there was suburbia, but unlike the city, it wasn't as tightly congested. It would be easier to avoid tearing up nearly as much of the surroundings, plus there were more natural things to get lost in...like trees and whatnot. All he had to do was keep the fucker away from the occasional house or complex.

Although his Quirk had a tendency to leave a lot of damages in its wake, under a steadier hand – i.e one that was actually more focused on not leaving so many craters and scorch marks, lest he be put on restriction yet again for another week or two – it could work. It was a bat-shit _insane_ idea, but it had promise. By this hour, everybody would be in their residences, so they wouldn't have to worry about the 'nightlife' as well. Just avoid the homes, and keep the blows limited to their enemy alone. It could work. It _had_ to work.

With his Quirk in play propelling him, and the beast's focus solely on his person, it wouldn't take nearly as long to reach the area, either. He could easily scale over the remaining building tops, and then switch to the greenery or open spaces. Again, just dodge the landmarks, as if it were a training exercise. The obstacles were bigger this time around, but it wasn't like he had honed reflexes and reaction times for nothing. Hell, even Kirishima could be useful here – every time the monster got too close to anything, he could send it back by just standing in place, Quirk activated! That last strike had been more than enough to prove this assessment.

"Oi. Hair-For-Brains." The Noumu before them was starting to twitch; it wasn't going to stay still much longer. Without looking over, Kirishima gave his acknowledgement with a nod. Bakugou continued on. "I got a plan. It's risky, but right now, we gotta get this pissant outta the city. As far away as possible. You in?"

Again, another nod. The Noumu was shifting in place. Was it getting ready for a second charge? "Spill."

Bakugou had his hands raised, ready to start blasting at any given moment. "Follow my lead. And this time, keep the fuck up. I'm gonna head towards the station from up above, and head towards the neighborhood. More open territory, and easier to control damages."

At hearing this, Kirishima had to do a double-take, staring in shock. "'Easier to control damages'?! Around people in their homes?! That's not just risky, it's downright -"

His objections were cut off there. "Like I said, more room. More nature. Hell, some of those places could even be empty. There's always at least one abandoned house in a cul-de-sac. All we have to do is dodge between the spaces. Just like in school. I can blast my way over the rooftops; it's not like I'm hurting for sweat right now." Indeed, beads were rolling down his temples and face, and his chest was soaked in it, the salt mingling with the blood of his open wounds. His heart was hammering at a rate he couldn't track.

"You can cover the ground, and send it back if it gets too close. There's gotta be a dead end somewhere. Once we reach it, it's all trees. We can lure it in there, and then..." Kirishima understood what Bakugou was getting at now, though he still had his reservations. "Beat the shit outta it in the wooded area." Taking in a deep breath, he prepared his body to turn, and hit the ground like a bat out of Hell.

Beside him, Bakugou was in the same position. The Noumu was lowering its head. Kirishima offered his parting words. "I'm gonna trust you on this one, but...just remember: if you screw up, and this doesn't turn out the way we want it to, if there are any mistakes...it's both our heads on the line. We gotta carry that with us, for the rest of our days. We're heroes. We're supposed to save lives, not take them." He clenched his sharp teeth in anticipation of what was to come. "We can't afford any mistakes."

"Heh." The blond dug his heels into the asphalt. "I don't make mistakes." With that, the Noumu lunged.

And boom, that was it. Time to put this madman's mission into action.

 **…...**

"...mm..."

It was pitch-black that greeted Uraraka's vision, as her eyes flickered open groggily. Weakly, she rolled over, and fumbled for her phone. Almost one a.m. What on Earth could've have woken her up at this hour? She'd fallen into a peaceful slumber as soon as she'd settled in under her blankets, head sinking into the pillow like the most comfortable quicksand. She hadn't been dreaming, as far as she knew; why was she coming to now?

As she placed her cell down on the bedside table, closing her eyes once more to try and call back the welcoming embrace of slumber, a sudden faint tremor startled her. The bed creaked ever so slightly, but even with hearing the sound and feeling the sensation, Uraraka attempted to return to blissful unconsciousness.

 ** _Boom._** But that sound, she couldn't ignore. Sitting up from the mess of bedding, her bleary brown eyes were now trained towards the window. That blast...was someone setting off fireworks? Was that what was causing the trembling from earlier? Just how powerful were they to be triggering those sorts of reactions? How close were they? It wasn't even any sort of holiday or celebration time; who the heck would be lighting up fireworks after midnight?!

Her gaze continued to peer out the window, and she took notice of the faint flashes of bright light, reds, oranges and whites, appearing in the distance. The longer she looked, the bigger they seemed to get – and the louder the noises grew. Other sounds were starting to be mixed in as well, like heavy thuds and slams, and even...roaring? _Uh-oh._ Was...there some kind of commotion going on in the neighborhood?

 _Please no, oh God, no...not here, not now, not tonight, of all nights!_ The reverberations, booming and cracking were becoming even more frequent and prominent – by this point, her whole house seemed to be shaking! Clutching at the bed covers, Uraraka shut her eyes tightly, wishing and praying with every fiber of her being that this was all just a bad dream; maybe she really was still asleep, and there wasn't some sort of literal warfare going on **_right outside of her house - !_**

And then, the crash of splintering, shattering glass. Uraraka's eyes flew open, and she let out a scream: a body had just come flying straight through her window. Pinching her arm frantically, she felt her stomach sink at the sharp pain that stemmed from the tiny point of contact. _I-It's not a dream...!_

Well. Looks like she wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon.

 **A/N:...hoo boy. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. Where do I begin?  
**

 **Before we begin: I AM SO SORRY for the delay in updating! Things...haven't been good on my end. Both in my personal life, & in writing. I've been under a LOT of stress recently, & for a while didn't even have access to the 'net/my computer. Add on to that my state of mind, & some Writer's Block [yes, I said it, & I know, it sucks], & you have a recipe for disaster. I didn't want to come back to this until I was certain I was ready for it, so you guys would get the best I could possibly offer you.**

 **First: the entrance of Bakugou & Kirishima! I must be honest w/all of you here: I actually...have some issues w/Bakugou as a character. That's not to say I hate him, b/c I don't. It's...a personal thing, relating to the first few Chapters of the manga w/him involved. Some stuff just...hit a LITTLE too close to home for me in his treatment of others [*cough*Deku*cough*]. **

**It took me a WHILE to start warming up to him, & a lot of that was through fanfic. In particular, his interactions w/certain other characters [*cough*Kirishima & Uraraka*cough*]. That's why, writing this part...was VERY tricky for me.**

 **Whatever my personal issues/triggers may be, I aim to tell a good story, & keep the characters as IC as I can manage. And even taking into account the setup of this AU, certain things won't change. Whether or not I agree w/all of his behaviors/actions, at his core, Bakugou wants to be, & is, a hero. So I want to make sure I'm portraying him w/out bias. **

**SO. If anybody notices anything here that seems OOC or unfair to Bakugou's character, PLEASE let me know, so I can fix it. W/this AU, I actually get a few different opportunities & avenues to explore, in regards to certain parts of canon, & I REALLY wanna make sure I don't screw them up. I did have fun w/Bakugou's temper, colorful language & Quirk, but I also tried to keep in mind that, while being a hothead, he's also VERY intelligent when it comes to battle, among other things. He can be rash, but he also knows how to plan. So, I tried to portray that here, in his ideas on how to take down the Noumu.**

 **Also: the banter between him & Kirishima. Friendships = WIN. X3**

 **The Noumu, too. I have a reason for why it's written out the way it is, w/the abilities its been given. So, if it seems a bit...awkward, or weaker, that's why. You'll get your answers, in a future update. As it is right now, though...is this interpretation of a Noumu passable?**

 **Lastly, Uraraka. Poor, poor Uraraka. While I had a nice time w/her reminiscing upon her family, & processing what happened to her at the restaurant, at the same time...she just can't catch a break, can she? Apparently her window can, though - literally too, for all the wrong reasons. Who just went flying through the glass, scaring her half to death?**

 **As always, feedback is welcomed, appreciated & encouraged. Hopefully, y'all are still willing to give this story a chance. I REALLY want this to get off the ground, so no matter what obstacles may be in my way...I won't give up on it.**

 **Next time: It's all-out war on Uraraka's property! Between two wannabe pro heroes and one out of this world villain...while she's caught in the middle. And w/out a Quirk, too. Will she, much less her house, get out of this unscathed? And how will the pair react, once they realize that they've got an unwitting [ & ultimately unwilling] audience?**

 **Until then, take care, everybody.  
**


	4. When Worlds Collide

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku no Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the original artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. **_This wasn't happening._** It just _couldn't_ be! Things like this just didn't - _occur,_ in the lives of people like her!

Yes, superpowers existed in the world, as did villains. Yes, sometimes the stories in the news were akin to that of a comic book. Yes, even those around her, in her neighborhood, in the streets, even those she worked alongside, had their own astounding abilities. But she was not one of them. All her life, things had been relatively mundane and, well...average? Could she still call it that, when the supernatural and paranormal were now so much more common?

The point was, she'd always seen herself as sort of...detached, from the rest of society, when it came to things like Quirks and their related activities and conflicts. The most contact she'd had with them was seeing her parents or coworkers powers in action, or being stuck in traffic somewhere because a train had been delayed, thanks to a confrontation somewhere or other involving heroes and criminals.

Ultimately, she was always at the right place, at the right time, to avoid any and all trouble or exposure. She'd barely even kept track of the televised battles on TV! Not that she didn't believe there was struggle in the world – she was very well aware of that – but if she had to choose between watching people fight in the street with varying methods of combat, or a story about a new animal shelter opening somewhere, she'd choose the latter over the former. Or, at the very least, a story like heroes using their Quirks to give back to the community that didn't only involve trading blows.

So this, this scenario right here: sitting in bed, huddled under the covers, one fist balled tight in the blankets, while the other was digging fingernails against skin, wishing and praying the pain plus fear away to no avail? Yeah, this was as far from her type of 'average' as could be.

Again and again, as the seconds ticked by, Uraraka continued to clutch at her arm, blinking her eyes in rapid succession. It was as though, in one second, everything would just suddenly disappear, and she'd be merely risen in bed, having awoken through the power of an overly-realistic nightmare. There _wasn't_ a gaping hole in her lone bedroom window. The late night air and a heavy scent of smoke was _not_ filtering in through the jagged space. There _wasn't_ some dark shadow twisting and turning, roaring outside on her lawn. There _weren't_ shards of shattered glass and snapped framing scattered across her wooden floor.

And, most importantly, there **_wasn't_** some guy's body, laying in a crumpled heap against the wall by her bedroom door! Speaking of which...

"Urgh...the fuck...was that shit, huh...?!" With staggering, almost drunken movements, the figure slowly began to rise, one hand tangled in spiky locks – okay, based on that harsh voice and physical stature, it was definitely a guy – while the other was pressing against his side. Glancing down, even in the faintest glow of the moonlight outside, she could tell that there were large tears in his clothing...

...and his flesh.

"'ptoo' What the _fuck_...was that weak shit, ehh?! You think I haven't...been flung through a window before?! Fuck you – the contractors in this city practically have me on speed-dial!" That did not serve to reassure Uraraka any. Did this guy not realize he wasn't alone in this room? Or...did he just not care? Based off his prior statement...

Another harsh wad. The brunette finally figured out that, no, he wasn't just spitting on her floor to add insult to injury – there was both blood and glass being spewed. She could only hope he hadn't actually eaten any of it. He had gone face-first when he'd come flying through...perhaps he'd had his mouth open at the same time? That was the best case scenario. As he wiped it on the back of a thick forearm, he finally returned his attention to the wound in his side. Turning slightly, Uraraka felt her own stomach tighten with nausea, at the faint glimmer protruding from the skin. "Oh, motherfucker..."

Without hesitation, his hand was now gripping at the pointed shard. With a grunt, he gave it a hard yank. Uraraka could feel the scream and urge to gag coming on. Letting out a fierce yell, followed by a few more choice curses, he had pried it out, and threw it aside. It clinked against the rest of the debris and the solid floors. Poking at the wound a few times and inhaling sharply, the male seemed to decide that it was okay, he could still function. Swinging his arms and hissing, he finally turned around, to take in the surroundings of where he'd ended up.

Instantly, his stare landed on Uraraka.

The air between them was almost palpable. Uraraka was sure she must've looked a right sight, even without having been beat half to death. She could feel her eyes practically bulging from their sockets, as her hand at last gave up on its ferocious pinching to her arm. The spot was tingling from the released pressure – most likely, there'd be a bruise forming later on. The guy before her, however...

His explosive locks were a faded blond shade, and he had very distinct features. A sharply angled gaze, currently widened as though he'd never seen another person before. Or perhaps, he hadn't been expecting to find anybody in this house? If he was flying through the air and handling ridiculous amounts of physical stress like it was no problem – and he hadn't tried to kill her yet – then, unconventional as he may've seemed, he had to have been a hero. His getup: tattered black tank with a bright X across the front, like straps, with soldier-esque pants, heavy boots, knee pads, a partially torn off dark mask, and large gloves, apparently connected to...giant grenades, only served to cement this fact in her mind. What stood out the most to her however, even more so than the unusual costume, intimidating stance, or even all the blood running down his body...

...were his eyes. Even in the night lighting, she could tell: they were a fearsome, deep shade of crimson, like the lifeforce that currently dripped from his form. They seemed to nearly gleam in the darkness, as though he were some unnatural creature from another planet. Uraraka could feel all the panic, the protests, the cries and anger, the questions and ranting, dying on her tongue and sinking back down her throat, to sputter among her stomach fluids.

This guy...as startling as he was to look at, in the same breath...he was almost, vaguely...familiar? But how?

 _Shit..._ At the same time Uraraka was having her silent evaluation-slash-freakout, Bakugou had been assessing the situation as well, albeit his own way. He'd been surprised to see a house at the very end of what had seemed to be a straight path head-on into the wooded, natural areas. When he'd first come across this worn looking two-story, maybe even a couple miles away from the last house on the line, he hadn't quite known how to respond.

He'd been aiming to keep collateral and civilian damages low, and for the most part, he and Kirishima had managed that. Aside from an electrical pole, a couple of streetlamps and a few stray tiles up above, the most they could be guilty of was disturbing the residents with all the noise. Blasting or running over rooftops, along with all the shouting and that stupid Noumu getting its panties in a bunch every time he or Kirishima laid a hand on it – or, in the latter's case, acting like a one-man barrier and then bitch-slapping the damn thing back another couple yards or so, as well as potentially knocking out the power...tended to do that.

Bakugou had thought the worst of it was over when the electrical lights had disappeared, and no other homes were cropping up. It had been only open road and grassy dirt patches. The forest line was just in reach! Hello, tree trunk bats! Hello, liabilities being severely reduced, to almost nonexistent!

And then... _then_ , this house had shown up. He hadn't known what to do from there. His mind had been overwhelmed, by both the hero's nature, and his general disposition.

First things first, he'd given the place the most basic of scans, being that he'd still been playing tag with a thing which was looking to flatten him into the ground upon being successful. There wasn't going to be a Round Two with this bastard. The house had seemed a bit out of place; older and more battered looking, as opposed to the modern structures further down the line. Had this place been built first, or had it just never been upgraded?

Next, he took note of the fact that the place was at the end of what should've been a straight shot into open territory, the completely darkened windows, and the empty garage. No car. There were a few scattered odds and ends inside, but it would be easy enough for somebody to leave shit behind, if they were in a hurry to ditch the place. Or...perhaps the owner wasn't at home right now? That would explain the missing vehicle, but even then...

 _What kinda idiot builds a house in such an awkward location?!_ As his red eyes locked onto the golden-brown gaze of the girl in the bed before him, Bakugou now had a pretty good idea of who that might be. The Noumu had been closing in, and he hadn't had the time to debate over things anymore. Kirishima had practically buried himself head-first in the dirt with the strike the monster had leveled at him. Even though he'd been able to harden, it had only been enough to keep him from being killed. He hadn't gotten a chance to knock the prick back again, let alone stop his blow.

It had all been on Bakugou. Fight or flight. They still had one more obstacle to clear before they could fully implement their plan – but this Noumu wasn't playing fair. It had been screaming, dragging its arms along the ground as it prepared for another strike. Dodging its two stretchy swings, the blond had unleashed a barrage of explosions at its charging form – and then it had stopped.

He hadn't even gotten a chance to question why, as without warning, its long limbs had shot straight into the ground before him like oversized spears. Still expanding even while solid, the asphalt had gone flying, and sent Bakugou into the air right along with it. Attempting to regain his balance in the higher space, he'd fired off another few blasts -

\- when one of those damn arms had swung up, catching him in the side. It hadn't pierced him, but in exchange, not only had it knocked the wind out of him, but it had sent him on a straight crash-course with an upper story window, that he'd promptly kissed with his face. Scrunched up in a yell of indignation, the whole thing had given way, and he'd tumbled onto the hardwood floor.

It wasn't abandoned. Neither was the owner out for the night. They were still here, looking at him like a fucking deer in headlights, not even seeming to care that hello, he was fucking bleeding like roadkill, _say something instead of looking at me like a stupid fish! What, do I owe you money or something?! I don't even know you!_

"BAKUGOU! What the hell are you doing?! Get outta there! It's -"

Uraraka wasn't even given the chance to adjust to the sudden second voice, when a horrific howl sounded from beyond the barrier. With a mighty thud, **_some_** thing flew off the ground outside, and attached itself to the side of her house. Another scream left her mouth just as that black... ** _s_ _ome_** thing stabbed through the wall by the broken window, aiming directly at the blond intruder. Swearing, he rolled out of the way in just a fraction of a second, only for another to shoot through the other side. Again, he dodged.

Uraraka, on the other hand, thought she was going to have a heart attack, as the appendage – it was some sort of arm with a sharp end – stabbed into the wall just a bit above her head. Trying not to hyperventilate, all she could do was stare at the male, who had turned to look back at her for a brief moment. His expression was like a slap to the face.

"What the fuck are you just lying around for?! Get moving, unless ya want that bed t'be your goddamn grave!" At that instant, the arms drew back swiftly – and proceeded to take the entire wall with them, as the creature fell back down with a squealing roar. The brunette was now staring straight out into the night sky and the open expanse of destroyed lawn, the faintest traces of the city skyline twinkling along the lowest edges of the inky canvas.

The male was already running towards the gigantic gash of a gap, leaping down with another series of colorful swears. "Come BACK here, you living, breathing pile of shit! I'm not done with you!" Uraraka was scrambling to untangle herself from the bedsheets, jamming her feet into her house slippers and stumbling across the floor.

What was she supposed to do?! Run downstairs and out the door? Just what exactly was waiting for her right in her front yard? But it wasn't like she could jump down like that, that – that _brute_ had done! He was a hero, she wasn't! That was two stories! She wasn't trained to handle a distance like that! Swallowing hard, she yanked open her bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, and began running through the hall.

The plaster from the ceiling began to rain down on her head from the force, and even from here, Uraraka could hear that blond madman cursing up a storm. "GodDAMN it, just hold still, you son of a BITCH! I'm trying t'keep damages LOW!" More booms and shaking, another creak of the foundation. "What part of "I just got my license back" don't you understand, fuck-face?!"

"Kyaaa!" Another series of bangs, followed by heavy groaning and crackling that shook the whole house to its core. Uraraka could barely keep her balance, falling forward on her hands and knees for support. This time, it hurt a little as the ceiling debris fell upon her pajama-clad form. That hadn't sounded like a simple explosion. That had sounded - and felt - more like somebody had taken a wrecking ball to the Earth itself, not just the residence...

By this point, Uraraka's sanity was in a tailspin. There was some kind of monster outside, being fought by another monster, this one in human form. Her parents' home was falling apart, because for whatever reason, they'd thought it was a splendid idea to battle, of all places, at the end of her quiet little cul-de-sac. And she was caught in the middle of it, because the supposed 'hero' that hothead was meant to be, wasn't enough to make sure she was safe. Instead, he'd just yelled at her to get the heck outta dodge, before jumping back into the fray.

And what was that about "getting his license back"? Had he gotten in trouble for something before?

Uraraka was terrified. After her parents' deaths, she'd never thought that anything she could experience would possibly compare to that. Even the incident at the restaurant had paled in comparison, and that was scary in its own right. But here and now, the fear was rearing its ugly head, and she truly felt helpless. It was like her parents were dying all over again; watching, hearing, feeling the house take such a beating.

No! It couldn't end this way! She wouldn't let it! Pushing herself to her feet, Uraraka made her way down the hall as best she could, past the bathroom and her old room, to the top of the stairs -

The stairs were gone. Or at least, the bottom. Directly across from it, having turned over the dining table and everything on it, was another gaping hole, with more shattered glass, crumbling plaster, and broken boards coating the floor. The couch was partially torn on the side closest to the destruction, as though something had ripped it apart in a hurry. And she knew what that 'something' was. Why?

 _ **It**_ was sitting in a heap, among the splintered wood and wall, paneling dissolving around it as it let out a gurgling warble. Uraraka clamped a hand over her mouth, refusing to let the shriek inside come forth. She didn't want that...that **_thing_** hearing her. Didn't want it anywhere _near_ her. This was... _this_ was what had thrown that guy through the window. _This_ was what had ripped out the entire wall upstairs. This...whatever it was.

If she'd thought that the blond had looked familiar, it was all too apparent that she recognized this monster. Years ago, back when the top hero at the time, All Might, had been forced to retire after a final battle. She may not have kept up with most conflict or heroics news, but everybody had been watching when that happened. These abominations had been running around freely on the streets, wreaking havoc and stumping even the greatest pros on how to properly defeat them. She couldn't remember what they were called, but she remembered that particular news footage clearly.

Heavy, misshapen, malformed and stocky bodies. Enough mass to back up their levels of hard-hitting damage, but nothing that looked remotely close to human. Pitch black 'skin' tone, with those bulbous eyes, and gaping, grotesque mouths. And atop their heads...the visible brain matter. If she looked at it long enough, being in such close proximity now...could she actually see it pulse? Did she care? Did she even want to?

No. She didn't.

It felt as if she were choking, as Uraraka carefully turned away. She couldn't go downstairs now. Not with them gone, and certainly not with that...that **_abomination_** there, either. Breaking her neck or back from an ill-thought out jump was one thing; being torn apart by that being was another entirely. Ultimately, she didn't want to die. She just didn't have any obvious routes of escape in her immediate sights.

Nor did she have the time to ponder this. The monster was standing up now...and had just cracked its neck in her direction. That unnatural gaze was trained on her and her figure, frozen in place where she stood.

She couldn't go downstairs. The door was effectively blocked off. But all that remained back where she'd come from was a dead end, leading to that giant hole, of what used to be her parents' bedroom wall and window. She knew she needed to make a decision fast, because the creature beneath her was already preparing to jump. It didn't take a genius to determine that in one leap, it would easily be on her level, face-to-face and ready to strike.

Uraraka didn't have a choice. Right now, she could only delay the inevitable. The beast was springing forwards at her. With a frantic scream, she spun around, footsteps slapping rapidly as she fled back the way she came. Behind her, she heard – and felt – the solid, trembling thud of weighted mass landing at the top of the stairs, where she'd been standing not a moment before.

Honestly, if she could've chosen to go back to the restaurant, get puked on ten more times, have to stay late to clean up while filthy, _and_ be the last to leave while closing up...she'd gladly do it, without hesitation. Where was that noisy guy from earlier, anyway?!

Seriously, how was this her _life_ right now?!

 **…...**

 _Shit. Shit. **Shit!** Shit, shit, shit, shit, **shit!** _

Those were the only thoughts racing through Bakugou's head, as he'd made the effortless leap from the second story hole that had once been the upper side of a house. His boots landed forcefully on the grass and dirt below, and without missing a beat, he was already running right back into the heat of battle. Charging up a massive blast in his right hand, he'd aimed it head-on at the Noumu who had recovered quite nicely. It was bolting towards him, tongue flying out the side of its mouth like a disgusting version of an overgrown, dopey dog.

"Eat THIS! HAH!" Firing off the shot, Bakugou quickly began preparing another, only to let out a yell as, through the heavy smoke cloud, a sharply clawed hand darted forwards, nearly impaling him through the face if he hadn't ducked and rolled in a split second. Letting out a growl, the blond steadied himself, and started forming up the next explosion yet again. That crap-sack was stupidly bumbling towards him, sticky blood trailing from its forehead, but brain still intact.

Bakugou knew he needed to deal some serious damage, and soon, while avoiding any and all strikes against him. Their heads were the ultimate weak point, and you'd think it would be easy to take them out, what with the damn organ matter being visibly exposed. But these dicks could take an absurd amount of damage, especially with their regeneration factor. Even though this one's only triggered for every bit of damage dealt to its opponent, they weren't pushovers – he could admit that. And he hadn't done himself any favors, getting as banged up as he did.

Just as he was about to fire, however, the Noumu feinted to the right – effectively aligning itself with the house. If Bakugou blasted it back now, it would go flying straight through the downstairs level, causing more destruction to the abode. The home that wasn't so empty as he'd thought. He wasn't willing to call it a mistake, merely a road bump.

That girl in the bed still hadn't come out yet, though.

"Tch..." Turning around, Bakugou started running, towards a set target: Kirishima, who was currently rubbing his head and spitting out bits of soil and foliage. Apparently, he'd really eaten it during that last pummeling. Well good, now they were even.

If he'd had to rate it, he would hands-down say that trying not to swallow broken glass and spitting out fragments coated in blood was far worse than hacking up mud. After all, the latter was no different than playing a particularly aggressive round of soccer...or just getting down and dirty in a round of training at UA, back in the day.

He was trying to lead the prick as far away from the stupid house, before they really got in trouble. Not bothering to glance behind him, Bakugou pulled the same move the Noumu had used on him prior, dodging to his left, and sliding past the redhead, forcing him to come to with a yank of the arm. Practically being dragged on his heels, Kirishima swung out of the blond's grip, looking at him with stains caking his features, and face bewildered. "What the hell are you doing?! I just -"

Bakugou cut him off, spinning around to survey the current arrangement. "Shut up!" The Noumu was now closer to the roadside; if he blasted it back now, it'd go flying straight into the pavement. Good. "Just wail on that thing, don't get hurt, and DON'T send it towards the house!" Kirishima followed his stance, hardening and preparing for the next barrage of onslaught. He didn't quite understand his partner's reasoning here, however. "You went crashing through there like a bullet, though! Isn't it already too -"

His palm was already beginning to sizzle, as the Noumu let out a roar before flying up into the sky, propelled by its hind legs. It must've had some sort of jumping Quirk worked in, as well. "There's a fucking civilian in there!" Instantly, Kirishima shut his mouth. He understood perfectly. Any thoughts on the situation were kept solely in his head, as Bakugou began firing rapidly.

He darted around the side, to catch the bastard when he landed. Hopefully, it'd be messy, and he could get in a few powerful punches, enhanced by his ability. Bakugou was backing up steadily, keeping a watchful eye on the target's trajectory. Don't take any damage, wasn't that what his partner had said? It wasn't going to be easy, but damn if he wasn't willing to try. He'd never backed down from a good challenge. That wasn't the manly thing to do.

With an Earth-shattering boom, the Noumu's towering form crashed back down, swaying slightly in place as the creature gurgled to itself. Yes – now was their chance! Rushing forwards, Kirishima added a couple extra layers of solidity to his fists and legs, just as Bakugou had smacked its head back with a swift crack. Blasting it once more, directly in the face, the redhead caught it as it bent away.

"Rgh!" One hefty punch to the face, followed by a spinning kick to its jaw and neck. The Noumu must've been seeing stars by that point, as it was struggling to regain its balance. Another hard shove, his boot to its chest, then another blow from Bakugou's palm. This was great, this was excellent! It had caught a bit of air by this point, and hardening his body once more, Kirishima decided, in the heat of the moment, to use one of its own moves against it, and barrel into it with all he had.

Bad idea.

"Whoa!" The power behind the slam had sent Kirishima stumbling back a few feet, startled by his own strength. 'The ultimate shield and spear', isn't what they'd called him back at the Academy? With a cry, the Noumu shot across the open field, past a flabbergasted Bakugou -

\- and straight into the lower side of the house. There were now two gaping holes, barely separated by the thin layer of floor suspended between them. Now, both that girl's bedroom and living room were on full display, as the Noumu lay in a crumpled heap at what appeared to be the foot of a staircase. The look on the blond's face was absolutely livid, as he rounded on the redhead.

"You...godDAMN...Shitty Hair-For-Brains...!" Kirishima was both sheepish and spooked. "What the **FUCK** did I just say?! Did all that stupid hair grow into your ears?!" Bakugou was ready to lash out, or start pulling at his own spiked locks. How hard was it to get things done right around here?!

This was the first time he was truly, actively on edge about causing any destruction – both for the sake of his Hero's License, and the fact that the dumb doe-eyes that lived here still hadn't appeared. Was she still upstairs, after he'd told her to get the fuck out? Did she think that this was all just gonna go away if she hid in the closet, or something?!

His partner had his hands raised, in a gesture of surrender. "Hey man, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to -" But yet again, he was cut off in an instant by his seething companion. " "You didn't mean to"?! Well, a fat lot of good that does us now! I don't even know _where_ that fucking girl went, she hasn't come out here, after I fucking told her to run! If she's still on the top level, there's no way she can get out the front door now!"

Throwing his arm down, Bakugou began firing off a stream of smaller blasts, quickly blackening the grass at their feet, and nearly catching Kirishima's shoes. Letting out a yelp, the redhead was forced to engage in an awkward dance, to keep from getting his toes blown off. Looking at Bakugou in exasperation, he started waving his arms frantically.

"Hey, hey, hey! Oi! I know I screwed up! But if she's still in there, don't you think we should focus on getting her away from that thing, and sending it back to Kingdom Come?! Instead of fighting?!" Without missing a beat, Bakugou had spun around, and was marching once more towards the house, palms recharging and ready to blow some shit up. By this point, the house was a lost cause – so much for keeping the collateral damages low. The priorities now were taking out that Noumu once and for all, and getting the owner of the property away in one piece.

Running after the blond, Kirishima was ready to amend for his mistake. They could drag that misshapen piece of crap back out here, and then -

"AIIIEEE!" That sound. There was only one being on the whole Earth that could've been making that sound, and Bakugou knew all too well what - or _who_ \- it was. Coming to a sudden stop at the gargantuan opening in the wall, his heart sank, as he caught a glimpse of the Noumu flying up from its place at what remained from the bottom of the stairs, charging down what he guessed must've been a hallway. Worst case scenario: the fucker had caught sight of that daft woman, and was enamored at having a new plaything.

Except this one wasn't any sort of pro hero – hell, he didn't even know what sort of Quirk she could possibly have – and was nothing more than a casualty, a midnight snack for this artificially engineered demon. It was bad enough that he'd failed at keeping the setting together – and he'd been doing so well, too! - but losing human life went entirely against what heroes stood for. No matter if 'people skills' weren't his strong suit. No matter if the rest of this plan had gone tits-up.

Nobody defeated Bakugou Katsuki, in any way, shape, fashion or form. He'd get his victory. And Shitty-Hair was gonna help him – like he should've done from the start, instead of making things harder for both of them!

Red-eyed gaze now trained on the top floor, he was practically holding his breath, hoping that the girl would at least be smart enough to come back to the bedroom, where they could see her – and that fuckface. He'd figure out the rest of it from there.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima was staring at him, disbelieving and panicked. "What the hell are you doing?!" He was ready to charge in and chase after the creature immediately, but the blond held him back with a firm grip. He continued to protest. "That was – that was the civilian you mentioned, right?! We gotta help her! Real men don't just stand around daydreaming!" The more he struggled however, the tighter Bakugou's grip grew.

"Shut up!" he ordered once more. "Just give it a minute, and fucking _trust_ me!" He was putting all his money on the hopes that this girl would follow his plans, and lead the cretin back within firing range. Otherwise...this might just be their last mission. He didn't even want to begin to imagine what would happen when the 'real' pros showed up...they were just lucky that none of them were here yet. Must've been a busy night, if it was taking this long to round up reinforcements.

"Ah?" He was yanked from his thoughts, as Kirishima had stopped fighting, and was now looking straight up. Focused instantly, Bakugou could hear the unmistakable tapping, of rushed footsteps upon wood. In a couple of seconds, he could just make out the mop of disheveled brown hair, loose top hanging off of pale shoulders, and the waist of patterned pajama bottoms. She'd done it – she'd actually finally listened to him, in a way. Now she just had to -

Smash. Another shriek, and the figure's back drew closer to the broken, open edge. That sound could only mean one thing: the Noumu had found her. And being in a single room, she had nowhere left to turn.

Or did she?

"HEY! Dumb-ass!" Kirishima's jaw dropped, as his head snapped to the side, to see Bakugou cupping his hands around his mouth, calling out. "I told you to get the hell outta there, but you didn't listen! Now we gotta do this the hard way...just fucking TURN AROUND already!"

His voice seemed to have registered, at long last, with the young woman, as she whirled to face them, scrambling as close to the ledge as she could without falling off. Kirishima could now get a good look at her; she couldn't have been any older than them, with short locks that framed her plump, flushed face. Her honey colored eyes were wide with shock and fear, as she regarded them below. "You-!"

Another growl, and a loud stomp. Glancing back quickly, she turned to face them again, obviously panicking. "I-I'm sorry! I don't – I can't get down from here! Please..." Her voice was sweet, but pained, and it was agonizing for Kirishima to listen to and watch. A person like that should've been smiling, not scared out of her wits at the mercy of some creature!

Thud, rumble. The Noumu was obviously drawing closer, and the brunette was shaking. Her eyes were starting to fill with tears, though she was doing her best to hold them back. "Please – please! W-What – What do I do?!" If only either of them had a Quirk that allowed for floating, or flying - ! It'd have come in real handy right about now -

"What the fuck d'you THINK?" Bakugou's boorish tone brought the redhead back to the current moment. "Just jump! And hurry up, will ya?!" At this, the female's face seemed to drain of color, and her rounded eyes grew that much larger. "I-I can't – I can't do that! I'm n-not like you, I-!"

Without hesitation, Bakugou had his right arm raised, palm trained directly on the edge beneath her. Kirishima was gaping, wondering if his friend had finally snapped. The girl too seemed confused, but didn't have a chance to react; in another move, with a threatening low roar, the Noumu was now in view. Looking back and forth between it and the two men below, it was apparent that she was scrambling to make a decision.

"I'm gonna blow out the floor, as soon as that fucker comes closer. On both sides. When I do, you catch her. You hear me? You can't fuck this up, Hair-For-Brains. Got that?" At once, Kirishima was ready. Hardening his body, he stepped closer inside the wall frame, preparing his stance. The woman looked terrified and lost. "I-I-I-"

Just then, the Noumu charged forwards, to close the gap between them and take down its prey. Ignoring her scream, Bakugou fired two shots, to her right and left. Instantly, the ground gave way, sending her falling straight down. Kirishima sprung into action, practically zooming forwards, to wrap his arms protectively around the young woman, catching her securely and shielding her from the rapidly falling wood from above.

The Noumu was screeching, angered at having its 'toy' taken away. Bakugou responded by firing another shot at the floor beneath it; it crashed through the weakened boards, and in turn, her bed began to sink down as well, dipping and sliding at an angle. With another groan and a resounding boom, it had fallen down below atop the beast who was still trying to collect itself. Bakugou knew that a bed wasn't enough to stop a Noumu from its rampage, though.

All he could hope was that Kirishima had held up his end of the plan, and that doe-eyes - no, both of them – were still alive through all of this.

 **…...**

With a shriek, the monster had sprung up from the debris and furniture, lunging forwards towards Bakugou. Its movements were sloppier now however; it hadn't gotten a chance to heal its accumulated damage for the last few rounds, and the effects were kicking in.

Shooting its arm out stiffly, looking to pierce the blond through the chest, it let out a frustrated growl, as the male smoothly side-stepped, already setting up a new blast in his hand. Letting it off, the battle was gradually pulling away from the near-trashed house, and back out towards the road. As Bakugou and the Noumu continued playing their game of disjointed tag, the rubble in the living room began to stir and shift.

Slowly, the bed started to move, creaking as it was pushed aside with a clunky scrape, having landed among the broken flooring and plaster. At least part of it was already suspended above the ground, having landed on the couch. From behind and beneath, coughing could be heard.

"Urgh..." The air around Uraraka was stuffy and dusty, while underneath there were various pieces pressing and stabbing into her spine. She was sweating, her heart was racing, and obviously her back hurt, but other than that...she was okay?

Yes. She was okay. Her arms and legs were still connected; her fingers and toes twitched when she tried to move them. It seemed she had lost one of her slippers in that last fall...

Wait. The fall. That's right – that crazy madman, he'd actually...

That was when she felt it: a puff of breath against her face. At the same time, she realized that there was something else...solid, surrounding her body and somewhat suspended over her. She could feel a bit of weight, as well. Uh-oh. Was she...trapped under something? _Please God, no...!_

Tentatively, she opened her eyes...

...and came face-to-face with a young man, nose barely inches away from her own, with vivid, widened crimson eyes - though not quite the same as that loud blond's. They were a softer shade of red, the right faintly nicked by a scar. His hair was a matching hue, and spiked straight up. He wore some sort of currently ragged mask around his jaw, and his body was stained with dirt, sweat and blood. His upper half was mostly shirtless with solid muscle on full display, save for dark, separate long-sleeves, and what appeared to be gears around his shoulders.

There was something else to his physique too, however...a strange rigidity and pattern, almost like rock, or maybe even harder. It seemed to be formed directly out of his skin...?

Then, his face broke into an awkward, sharp-toothed, but relieved smile. Genuine concern filled his gaze. "Eheheh...sorry 'bout the rough landing, miss. You alright?"

 **A/N: Dun-dun-duuun. And so ends Chapter Four. How was that?**

 **Gotta admit, this is probably my fave of everything I've written for this story so far. It has the most action, as well as the most humor. REALLY had a grand ol' time penning out the banter between our Dynamic Duo here. The one thing I worry about...well, is it In-Character? I know Bakugou can be aggressive, and impulsive, but I wasn't trying to make him come across as too reckless here, seeing as A.) this is set further down the line in the future, so he's an adult as opposed to a teenager, and B.) his License is on the line. It's all too obvious how much being a hero means to him, personality notwithstanding.**

 **Kirishima, too - how was he? He's something of the balancing act to King of Explodo-Kills; he provides the sociability and shields, whereas Bakugou mainly brings the pain, made to order. I'm just worried he might've come across as a bit...incompetent, in the battle, or overly friendly/cheerful, when dealing w/Uraraka? IDK...there's so many little things I fret & fuss over here.**

 **And finally, Uraraka. I REALLY didn't want her to come across as ridiculously weak or fragile, just...it's an AU setting where she has no Quirk or hero training, and even for the pros in Canon, Noumu are NOT to be taken lightly. I tried to give her a believable amount of fear, given her circumstances/situation, while not having it be unbearably cringey? Again, LMK how you think it turned out.**

 **Thus, all three of our main players are now in the makeshift arena together, & it's anyone's guess how exactly it's all going to turn out. In the end, just what will be left standing in this cataclysmic brawl for the ages, after nearly ten YEARS w/out hide nor hair of these ferocious superbeasts? Hopefully, the action sequences were engaging to read through as well, & not just tedious. This is supposed to be exciting, not yawn-worthy.**

 **As always, feedback is welcomed, encouraged & appreciated. I'm...not really sure how well this story is being received, b/c activity on it has been so...well, not really there? To those of you who have been supporting it/myself so far, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. We'll just...keep on truckin', & see if any new friends feel like hopping aboard for the ride. :3 **

**Next time: the conclusion of the battle, & the aftermath. Oh, boy - heads are gonna ROLL, in more ways than one. Until then everybody, take care. Happy Holidays.**


	5. Save Yourself

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku No Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the original artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

Uraraka wasn't certain anymore if the heavy beats and thuds were stemming only from the destruction beyond her trashed house, or if they were being uttered by her own pounding heart. First, a strange man had come flying through her window. Then, a living nightmare came smashing through the lower half of her house. After that, she'd gone falling two stories when the floor around her had exploded under her feet. She'd been sure that was the end for her.

But now, she was in another completely unexpected situation: having been saved by a second unfamiliar face, though this one was definitely friendlier than the former who'd shattered the glass and swore at her. As he carefully sat up, rising to his feet, he held out a hand, and, although shaky, Uraraka gratefully took it. It was somewhat rough, but his grip was steady, as they now stood upon the one speck of cleared ground among all the disarray.

Looking around slowly, a knot was beginning to form in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tried to keep her breathing even. What surrounded her...could this even be considered a 'house' anymore, let alone somebody's 'home'?

The living room was completely askew. Moonlight was rapidly streaming in from the missing walls and over the sparse flooring from her room above. She could barely make out anything that originally existed in the parlor at all, much less the dining area. Besides the table having been knocked over, and the hundreds, maybe even thousands or more in damage from the electronics having been flung and scattered, some utterly broken into pieces, there was the fact that the tiny sitting table in the parlor was now half shaded by her crookedly-positioned bed. It might've already gone straight into the wooden paneling below it from the weight of both furniture and the destroyed upper level crashing onto it.

At the foot of the staircase was no-man's land. It was entirely decimated, leaving only a large gaping crater in its wake, leading down to the lowest foundations. The front door was blocked off by the debris, and her shoes were majorly buried under the excess. Really, the only places downstairs that were still relatively in one piece and accessible were the kitchen, back area with laundry facilities, and, just barely, the farthest corner by the TV – oh no, there was a long crack across the screen. Something must've gone flying and caught it at a harsh angle.

 _Wait...the TV...the shrine!_ Uraraka felt like her organs were being sucked out of her, and forcibly shot back in, but at all the wrong locations. In a flurry, she was already making the motions to scramble across the minefield that was once the first floor of her house.

Kirishima, feeling the sudden tug on his hand, caught sight of this, and instantly sprang into action. What was this lady trying to do? She was in no condition – and neither was the house – for her to be trekking across the wasteland of broken shrapnel and potential hazards! Wrapping his arms around her instead, to keep the struggling girl from traveling any further, he tried to get in a word edgewise.

"Hey, hey! You can't walk over that! Look – you're even missing a slipper! Do you wanna get hurt? Because if that fall didn't kill you, then trying to navigate this mess might do it!" Although she didn't want to just sit and stay put, Uraraka, even in her frenzied state, understood what he was getting at. So, she tried to reason with him.

Pointing towards the lone untouched wall, she did her best to get the words out clearly, without screaming or sobbing. "M-My – over there, it's – there's something very, very i-important to me, and I need to – I need to get it! Please!" Staring at her quizzically, Kirishima could hear the pain in her voice, though at the same time, he knew that sticking around in here any longer wouldn't do either of them good. Who knew when something else would potentially come crashing down on them? If he didn't activate his Quirk in time... "I know this is hard to deal with, Miss, but -"

Uraraka squirmed to look up at him, unshed tears shining in her golden-brown gaze. Her teeth were grit, as if she were fighting to keep from yelling. "Please! I-I just – I need to make sure it's okay! N-Nothing else! Then we – then we can go! I promise!" Seeing the frantic, desperately passionate look to her features, Kirishima knew he couldn't say no. This girl had just escaped death, while losing the roof over her head. As long as he was aware and kept them both secure, it shouldn't be too hard to grab whatever it was that she needed so badly. He'd undergone the training, his reflexes were up for this.

However, he wasn't about to let her walk the entire way just to grab it.

"E-Ehh?! What – What are you -" In a flash, the redhead had swept her off her feet, secure in his arms. Uraraka's face was flushed, as the male began marching carefully over the mess strewn about them. Without meeting her gaze, he answered. "You're in no condition to be moving anywhere through this. And I'm supposed to be a hero, right? I won't let anybody get hurt, for whatever reason."

The brunette felt her breath catch in her throat, as he finally glanced down at her with a small grin. The faint light reflected off of his jagged teeth. "I'll help you get what you need – just don't tell my partner, 'kay? But after that, we have to get outta here. It's not safe anymore." Nodding rapidly, Uraraka could only cling to him tightly, as he continued making his way through the chaos. In a few more strides, they'd reached the other side.

Clearing a patch of floor with his boot, Kirishima gingerly placed the girl down, where she quickly scurried over and proceeded to snatch up two pieces of the makeshift shrine. Her savior didn't know this, however – to him, it merely looked as though she were going to investigate a small table momentarily, one that was somehow still standing.

Everything had either been knocked down or off. There was a small chip in the wooden nameplate, and the picture frame was cracked as well. But everything was still relatively together. Uraraka turned around, giving Kirishima a nod. "I got it!" Smiling, though it was a bit tight-lipped, he scooped her up once more, before heading for the unintentional exit way.

By now, the front yard was a warzone. If the inside of the house looked a right sight to see, then it was safe to say that the greenery had been reduced to a blackened shell of its former state. Crater after crater in the ground, a crooked, twisting, winding pathway of explosive mayhem. The air was thick with smoke, and in the center of it all, was a triumphant, if filthy and tattered Bakugou, grinning almost ravenously, at the sight of the Noumu before him.

It was close to falling apart, though somehow managing to stand on its feet. One arm was missing, and its body was tilted at an even further unnatural angle. Dripping in blood from its head to its toes, it was apparent that the blond had followed his own issued advice to a T. Most of the damage to his opponent had been unhealed, because the one-man wrecking crew hadn't allowed it to get any closer with its claws and extended strikes.

But he'd certainly gone slap-happy with his moves, risky though they may've been – not all of them had been achieved by long range attacks only. If anyone could pull off such a feat, it was Bakugou Katsuki.

Marveling at his comrade's prowess, Kirishima set Uraraka upon the grass closest to the house which hadn't been burnt to unrecognizable cinders. Suddenly, they were both startled as, with a resounding crackling and crashing, another level of the remaining bedroom above, came tumbling down in a powdery, groaning heap. This time, it was the part which housed the dresser and mirror.

Kirishima and Uraraka both cried out – it had fallen exactly where they'd been upon first landing. If they hadn't moved any sooner or faster than they had, then...

"OI!" Bakugou had finally taken notice of the redhead and civilian. And, although he'd made a good deal of progress against the Noumu, he wasn't happy at seeing his partner just standing by and seemingly doing nothing. "How long does it take you t'fucking rescue somebody?! You having a little tea party over there, or what?"

Sharply jutting his thumb back, he spit out a wad of blood and saliva. "Quit yapping and get over here! Help me put this guy down for good!"

Kirishima was already rushing across the scorched earth, offering his apologies. "Sorry, sorry!" Looking back briefly at Uraraka, he gave her a subdued grin. "Don't worry – we'll have this taken care of in a jiffy! Count on it!" She didn't know how to respond to that, or much of anything else; she could only stare, in horrified fixation, as she silently accepted her front row tickets as an unwitting audience to this clash of good and evil, right on her doorstep. What was left of it, anyway.

One thing was for certain: if ever there was a distraction for decimation of all you knew and loved, a brawl between beings who may as well have been Gods by this point would surely be it. Uraraka could easily feel her pulse racing for a completely different reason, as the pair of heroes expertly ducked and dodged, while hitting back with everything they had. Their powers were unique – at least to her. Being someone without a Quirk, every ability was special in its own way, through her eyes.

In all of her lifetime, Uraraka had never gone out of her way to view or experience conflict, which was somewhat considered odd, given the society she lived in. Even if you weren't a hero, most everybody had Quirks, and enjoyed seeing a good ol' fashioned scuffle between pros and cons. Even her parents were avid watchers of the news. Most of the information she'd picked up had been purely in passing, from a random newspaper headline or online article, a brief image on the news, or word-of-mouth.

This enthusiasm had especially been prominent back when she'd been in high school, during the end times of All Might. He was one of, if not the most decorated and world-renowned hero, and his final showdown had been one for the ages. Now, nearly ten years later, people were still discussing it. And even if he'd officially retired by this point, he continued to hold influence and sway. The top ranked heroes of today still couldn't hope to fill his shoes, and Lord knows they tried, however they worked. They kept the populace safe, this was true, and had built up their own fan bases as well. But he was truly one of a kind.

No matter if she'd never been a regular follower of heroes, villains or the state of affairs beyond her own little corner. Everybody had been tuned in, that night at Kamino Ward, where the epic throwdown between the great Symbol of Peace, and the face of true darkness – a legendary adversary who'd been terrorizing the world since before she was born. Whether or not he was the one to directly strike the blows, or step into the limelight. This fearsome figure been pulling the strings back when that motley crew, the League of Villains had first started their reign of terror. Jeez, that was a name she hadn't heard in a long while.

She remembered the speculations that they'd been working with another villain at the time, someone called...oh, what was it, 'Stain', or the 'Hero Killer'? That's right – because his M.O was exactly as his name suggested. However, although he'd incited a wave of bizarre devotion within some of the more misguided circuits, thanks to his 'belief system' – Uraraka recalled it well among some of the troublemakers at her school, and had done everything she could to stay out of their way - once he'd been caught, the League had continued on with their plans. But even now that their leader was contained far away, where he could no longer hurt others, his name still sent waves of shivers down spines.

All For One.

He'd founded the League, given them everything they needed – including the resources to begin breeding these...abominable inky super-beasts. It was still a bit of a mystery how he'd truly worked, but it seemed as though his Quirk...allowed him to basically 'collect' the Quirks of others, and use them as he saw fit? Hence why the Noumu were well-equipped with so many abilities to take on opponents with. Unlike Monoma's 'Copycat', this Quirk wasn't temporary. The powers were his to keep. Just how many people he'd effectively stolen Quirks from, nobody could be sure.

Wait a minute...back up for a moment there. If the Noumu were here again, then could this possibly mean...that the League was returning, too?! How?! Had All For One escaped? But it would've been front page news with an all-points bulletin! Right? Or maybe...

"RAAH!" Uraraka was effectively yanked head-first from her thoughts, and back into the current situation at hand. The blond and redhead were taking turns trading blows against the stumbling Noumu, and it was surely only a matter of time before it fell to their unwavering assault. In particular, the hotheaded male she'd first met was wiping the floor with the creature, dodging and attacking without missing a beat.

His Quirk seemed to have to do with...burning, now that she was up close enough to watch him in action. Or was it something else? No, he wasn't shooting out flames, they were just an aftereffect. So what was his main ability? Whatever it was, it was most certainly responsible for a good chunk of the property damages here. He wasn't shy at all about using it, either – the wide grin on his face, and rapid-fire shots, were clear proof of that. Perhaps he could send out explosive bullets? Something flammable and concentrated?

His companion, on the other hand – the one who'd pulled her from the wreckage – was more interested in hand-to-hand combat, though his Quirk definitely gave him a leg up on that. Just like she'd seen before, when she'd been pinned under him, his body and appendages would quickly change texture and form, allowing him to fend off strikes or protect himself from potential damage by his partner's ability. His body was ridiculously solid, enabling him to take on direct punches to the face and abdomen – Uraraka had squealed and flinched at that. Amazingly, she'd been able to restrain herself from full-on covering her eyes.

In return, his hardened figure could pack quite the punch, boosting what would've been regular blows to an almost inhuman status. And once he'd finished, it was back to the fiery blond, who'd swoop in for another round. At this point, the Noumu – once such a fearsome being – now resembled a piece of roadkill that someone had decided to play 'keep away' with. Wow, what a disgusting image.

"HAH! You inferior being – I've got no time for extras like you!" Kirishima had just finished a series of strikes to the blackened ground that the Noumu had been surrounded by, and Bakugou was already lining up his next shots, comeback quip on hand. Firing in a circle around its feet, the unsteady earth gave way, sending the battered monster down into a freshly formed pit with a grating, strangled howl. Landing down before it with a single leap, the male prepared his finishing move.

Palms lighting up with a new fury, Bakugou turned one more time, to regard his partner. "Oi, Shitty-Hair! I need you for this, so haul ass!" He didn't need to ask twice. The redhead was already on his way. Giving the struggling creature a triumphantly maniacal look, the blond proceeded to smash both of his palms into the sides of its head, and let off two more blasts. Matter sprayed forth, though he was unfazed. Nobody ever said that being a hero wasn't a dirty business.

"NOW! Hit 'em with your best shot!" Stepping aside smoothly, Kirishima took in the state of the Noumu – or, what remained of its face. The sides were almost entirely gone, and chunks of its exposed brain were missing along the edge of its forehead. Its neck was barely there, and the top mass was wobbling noticeably. However, it was still desperately trying to break free, with disjointed motions and twitches that were far too unsettling to keep watching. Steeling his resolve and solidifying his right leg, the male let loose a hefty kick -

\- and with a snap and squelch, its head went flying, entirely detached from its body. The remaining figure's motions stilled instantly, and the only sound was a faint plop of the bodily projectile, landing a few yards away in the smoking craters across the grass.

They'd done it. At long last, after all that combat and frenzy, all that blood, sweat and tears, after having to think up every last plan they could and then some on the fly...it was all over. The Noumu was dead. They'd taken it down, a feat which not many could claim on their own. They, an – as the Old Guard would say – "up-and-coming" pair of heroes, had effectively silenced one of the most dastardly devised foes in existence. They hadn't needed backup. It had been an amazing showdown, and a satisfying litmus test. Look at how far they'd come!

At least, that's what had been going through Bakugou's mind as he'd surveyed the surroundings with a tired, but smug stance. The day was saved, the baddie was gone. Hell, there was an even deeper sense of personal satisfaction than that - no matter who'd sent this reject out to cause havoc in the first place, Noumus had and would always remind him of that night: the night when his childhood dreams had been shaken, and for the first time in his life, he'd been unsure.

He'd watched his only hero give literally everything he had, just to save his life, and in exchange lost his own abilities in the process. All that hurt, that anger, that frustration - even guilt, which Bakugou was not usually one to harbor - had been lessened just a tad, by stomping out the life from this travesty of a creation. Never again. He would **_never again_** be so weak and powerless. **_Never again_** would others have to save him. **_Never again_** would others have to risk their well-being just to protect him. **_He_** was the hero. **_He_** was the unstoppable force of nature. **_He_** was the one who would always have the last say, be it in his destiny, or otherwise.

Sure, there was quite a bit of collateral damage, but all's well that ends well, ultimately. Considering it was a Noumu he'd taken out, the higher-ups were sure to give him a pardon this time around. All that really mattered was that he'd won, and nobody else had gotten...

...that was when his eyes landed on the small, trembling figure standing beside the wrecked house. Head down, hair hanging, arms raised and fists clenched. _Her_. Well, she was still alive, so obviously, she was -

Suddenly, her gaze snapped up to meet his. Heated honey-brown eyes were locked on to crimson, but although there were visible tears, she didn't look like she was about to cry. No, her expression was of someone about to strike. Her figure, at first hunched over and shivering, was now standing tall, or at least as much as her stature would allow. Bakugou had no idea what was happening, as the young woman began marching towards him.

Neither did Kirishima, who had just caught sight of the unusual scene, and was now watching in transfixed, exhausted confusion. What fresh hell was this?

"You...You...How could you? _**How could you do this to my home?!**_ "

 **…...**

She could see them in her mind's eye, the blurry remnants of her past. Little moments of sunshine, all tied to that one focal point, the start of her life with her parents, comfortable, safe and secure against the trials and indignities of the world. No matter what might've come her way, Uraraka could always count on her family and home to rekindle her hopes, and strengthen her spirit for the day to follow. Even after her parents had passed on, the house that love had built still remained.

One of her earliest recollections was of exploring the property, when it was still mostly empty. Only the barest of foundations had been planted and spread over the ground. She'd stumbled and waddled over the vast expanse of green grass, as her parents had been discussing plans between each other, making calculations and compiling lists, gesturing here and there as to what they wanted and where.

She hadn't been focused on any of that, though. As a toddler, she'd been mainly captivated by the lush viridian hues, and the towering trees that marked the limits of their future yard. It was so...so natural and quiet here. Not grey and congested, like the dinky apartment they'd been living in. Now that they'd gotten their construction company off the ground, one of their first projects, since they'd had the funds, was building their dream home.

A little clearer in her memories, and she could see, a year or so later, the image of them finally pulling up into the neighborhood, truck settling in the garage as they'd stepped out, to survey the completed abode as it practically glowed under the morning sun. Uraraka had been grabbing her Mother's hand with chubby child fingers and squishy palm, eyes wide as the fresh details burned themselves into her retinas, brain and heart for eternity.

The creamy golden hue had been tastefully balanced by a deep brown tiled roof, silver rain-spouts, a welcoming mahogany door, and a pale cement stoop. The windows sparkled in the sunbeams, like clear gems, gently reflecting the colors of their surroundings. She recalled the reassuring click of the brass doorknob, as the lock opened, and they'd taken their first steps inside, through the threshold.

Fast forward a good few years. A particular memory had decided to bubble forth here; a lazy Sunday, where her Mother had just finished cleaning up after breakfast in the kitchen, and she'd completed the remains of her homework from the day before. She must've been about twelve or thirteen at the time, and had been lounging on the couch, flipping quietly through a weekly comic magazine that had come in the mail earlier in the week.

Just as her Mother had stepped out from the dining area, wiping the last traces of dishwater from her hands, they'd both heard a clatter from the garage outside. In another couple of minutes, her Father had been staggering inside, a bunch of pipes, tools and blueprints in his hands. Although his balancing Quirk was clearly in action, he'd still been shaky in his footing, due mostly to the fact that he hadn't been able to see the path before him as clearly as he should've.

"Uh – oh, whoops!" And there had gone the misstep, resulting in one of the long pipes crashing through the plaster wall, leaving a decent-sized hole in its wake. Her Mother had sighed, shaking her head before going over to help her husband. Even with his ability, that didn't make him incapable of error. And mistakes like these were more common around their household than one would expect, what with the fact they were involved in construction, and her Father was always interested in improving things around their living space.

"Aw, jeez...I'm sorry, hon. Looks like I gotta bust out the patchin' supplies again." Offering a guilty smile, it was returned with a softer expression, and a peck on the lips by his wife. "It's fine, dear. Just try not t'go overboard with your projects, okay? I can get the stuff for you this time."

As she'd returned shortly with the paper, tub of powdered paste and coating brush, Uraraka had watched in curious silence while her Father worked. She'd always talked about helping out at their business for as long as she'd remembered, but although they'd continued to tell her not to worry, her desire to assist had never wavered. Perhaps...if nothing else, she could learn something useful here?

So, putting her comics on the small table in front of the couch, Uraraka had stood up, and asked her Father about the process involved in these sorts of minor repairs. He hadn't been adverse to explaining here, and had even let her try a few coats and layering for herself. From then on, she'd always been present to bandage up every little nick and crack the house endured, eventually learning to fix things entirely on her own, and saving her Father the hassle of doing it himself. It was a small thing to offer, but Uraraka felt useful nonetheless.

And here, **_here_** , at this moment in time, standing before this short-tempered, destructive young man, with the wreckage of her life behind her, a stark landmark against the deep night sky and torched earth beneath her feet. This was where it had led her. No matter how much she applied the plaster and paper, she'd never be able to fix this on her own. You couldn't slap a bandage over a bullet hole.

This imposing figure, who'd come barreling into her existence, startling her out of her sleep and ripping away everything she held dear. He had a partner, yes, but unlike him, the redhead had actually tended to her, even offering his assistance when she'd been so desperate to check on the shrine. Most likely, the majority of the damage had come from him and his explosive Quirk.

Hero. That's what they were both supposed to be, right? They wouldn't be dressed so distinctly and using their abilities with abandon otherwise. The longer she continued to stare up at his scowling face however, stance both on guard and dismissive, the more she could only see the destruction. Her parents' hard work, her childhood, her security, her bunker against the war that was this world – her everything, really. It had all been stolen away, by that inky monster...

...and this hothead, who hadn't seemed to care enough beyond the battle itself.

By now, Bakugou was well annoyed, and rapidly progressing towards irritated. The girl regarding him hadn't yet backed up from his space, that look of blind fury continuously etched into her full features. If he hadn't been feeling so damn cornered right now – by some nobody, no less! - he probably would've started laughing. A chuckle or two, maybe a snicker. This chick couldn't intimidate anyone even if she tried, like she seemed to be attempting here.

But. That didn't make her presence any less irking. She hadn't said anything since her first little outburst at him, only making faces after stomping forward to command his attention. What, was she spacing out now? She had been slow in getting out of the house during the battle, even when she'd clearly been given the orders to run, and had seen the commotion around her. He wouldn't be surprised at all if she was something of an airhead.

"Oi. The hell you lookin' at me for like that, eh?" His crude acknowledgement snapped Uraraka from her thoughts then, and his strikingly crimson eyes were fixing her with a heated stare of his own. "The fight's done and I ain't got anything left t'do here other than give the report when the top dogs arrive." His lips pursed slightly. "But since you thought it was _oh-so-important_ to try and bite my head off before planting yourself here, I'll give you one chance to explain."

At this, he leaned in closer, and Uraraka had to resolve herself not to flinch. Oddly enough, he smelled both smoky and sweet. But the emotions behind his eyes were far from kind. "Because, I _really_ don't like when people don't know how t'be grateful for the fact that they're still alive." Pulling back, he proceeded to fold toned arms across his broad chest. "So? Go on. I'm waiting."

Uraraka did have to admit, she'd come across as hostile upon first addressing him. Her shock and sentiment had been speaking for her, and on closer examination, knew he had made a good point. Whatever may've happened to her home, he and his partner had saved her life, and it was only fair that she show gratitude for that. She knew her folks would've certainly been happy, wherever they were, to still have her on the Earth.

"I..." Swallowing the knot in her throat slow and hard, the brunette tried to organize her frenzied thoughts into a proper sort of order. First things first, apologize and offer proper praise. Then explain the situation. "I am...sorry, for my aggressive tone, and appreciative of the fact that you and your cohort rescued me. Thank you for that."

The blond had been ready to turn on his heel and march off, accepting the response and acting like the girl didn't exist. He didn't ask for worship, though his skills were damn well worthy of it. At least this woman had owned up to the fact that she'd been in the wrong for rounding on him like that. Before he could move though, she continued on. "However."

Of course. Of _fucking_ course there was a catch. There always was. She wouldn't have come after him so doggedly in the first place if it had only been a simple misunderstanding. Eyes narrowing slightly, Bakugou grit his teeth behind tight lips, waiting for her to go on. If he'd had his way, he'd have simply mouthed off a "Whatever" to her however, and been done with it. Unfortunately, Hero's Conduct and all that shit.

"' _However?_ '" he hissed back at her.

Refusing to let his blood-red glare silence her, Uraraka stood her ground and continued on. "H-However...that still doesn't change the fact..." Good, good, keep going! Even if his gaze was searing enough to melt icebergs! "...that my house...is now destroyed." Almost there!

Her heart was on the verge of bouncing its way into her throat and out of her mouth, but the brunette refused to back down. "And I think, th-that as a hero...you have a certain responsibility...on handling it. Umm...yes. That's it." It was a weak finish, but the point was, she'd gotten the crux of her message across, and without flying off the handle like she'd done at first glance. Having been rather paralyzed with intimidation by the now bitterly dumbstruck male before her had probably unintentionally helped with that.

Now, the question was: how would he react to this?

If Bakugou had felt like laughing before, then it was only by the grace of some God or other that he didn't do so right into this oblivious bimbo's face now. Seriously? He'd just fought – and survived – against one of the most notorious terrors within the last ten years, kept the damages in check as much as he possibly could, and even saved her from certain death! He'd faced his past head-on, and directly flipped off his anguish and grief. But after all that, she had the gall to snap at him, then offer up a half-assed apology, before turning around and softly, spitting in his face.

Responsibility? Yeah, he did have that. As a hero. That's why he'd come out all this way just to fight in the first place! Because he'd been looking at the 'bigger picture', or whatever they liked to call it, and took into consideration the fact that continuing a fight in the busy city was not beneficial, for himself or anyone else. Hence why he'd made the commute on foot all the way out to this neck of the woods – to keep the damages low! And if he hadn't run into this damn house in the first place, he could've kept that record spotless. At least it wasn't as bad as the level of destruction he'd caused to result in his prior suspension, but still.

The way he saw it, a life saved was worth far more than any structure of brick and mortar. What, did she think she was the only person to ever lose a residence to conflict? Damages were a commonplace occurrence, no matter how hard heroes tried to keep the battles clean. Villains didn't see things the same way. Was he expected to have reasoned diplomatically with that brain-dead Noumu, convincing it to fight around her house?

Uraraka could feel her nerves beginning to tighten, at seeing no reaction in the male who stood before her. But for every second that ticked by, his form seemed to tower over her ever more so. No matter what her pounding heart screamed at her from behind her ribcage however, she couldn't back down. She'd gone this far to take a stand and put herself out there; she wouldn't allow fear to control her, make her simply hang her head and say "Okay, that's just the way things are."

She hadn't gotten a say in her parents' death. She could scream and cry to the heavens until her throat was raw, until her voice was gone. It didn't change a thing. They weren't coming back. But this, their home, their legacy; the one memory that Uraraka had left? The one thing that kept her going, kept her sane, and had been doing so these last four years? Nearly half a decade?

No. Screw being silent. This could've been avoided. It could've been prevented. This wasn't like a car crash on a rainy day with no heroes on patrol. These guys _were_ heroes. Heck, they couldn't have been much older than she herself! They were probably taught about these sorts of situations in whatever courses they had to undertake – there were too many academies and schools for that sort of business than she could recall off the top of her head. How was this any sort of acceptable?!

Suddenly, shadows. And a glaring, sizzling blood-red gaze locked onto her own. Lips were drawn back slightly, revealing gleaming, tightly pressed together teeth in a bitter snarl – or was it a smirk? Whatever the case, it was enough to send a shiver down Uraraka's spine. The jagged ends to his bangs didn't help, either. They only served to emphasize the points to his pearly whites; everything looked poised and ready to strike.

And boy oh boy, but did Bakugou have quite the vicious tongue on him.

" ** _You_**. Where d'you get off, huh?" Uraraka felt the twitch in her features, but couldn't bring herself to turn tail, as much as this stranger's presence set off all her warning bells. She didn't know if it was as bad as the time she'd been cornered at the restaurant – probably not, but it was still Earth-shattering, on its own level. She'd been reasonable, hadn't she? She'd apologized for her earlier rudeness, but she stood by her claims: her house was gone, and he'd had a hand in its demise. Therefore...as a hero, wasn't it on him to try and figure out some sort of solution with her?

Apparently not, judging by his reaction. "I bust my balls, day in and out, tryin' t'protect sorry saps like you, so that you can have the peace of mind to live way the fuck out here – who the hell builds a house this far out in the suburbs anyway, huh?! And I just got reinstated too, but I was doing my absolute-fucking-best, to not screw it all up and get thrown in the doghouse again!" Goodness, his face was turning red, and those vibrant peepers of his were starting to bulge from their sockets almost as bad as the Noumu's had. It was rather awe-inspiring, in a twisted way, Uraraka had to admit.

It was also infuriating. "Sorry sap"? Not only that, but he'd gone so far as to insult the location of her home – she hadn't picked it out, her parents had! So, was he blaming them instead, for its demolishing? That they should've been able to foresee this happening in the future? A future they weren't even a part of anymore?!

She couldn't get a word in edgewise, however. Bakugou continued on, stress and fury powering his verbal explosion like coal to a locomotive. "THIS! This, right here – I was tryin' t'be a nice guy, and not send your pretty lil' abode all to shit, even though, by my calculations, it shouldn't have even been here in the first place!" He could practically hear his teeth wearing down with each grind, as every syllable was spit with all the force of a home run. "This wasn't intentional! But it happened! I tried not to fuck it up, but we can't always get what we want! I was doing this for the good of others! I thought it'd be better to fight down here, and lead that fucker away from the city!

"And even then, I still get shit on! Yeah, your house is gone! It sucks! But you're alive! That's what matters, right?! So get over it! Just stay in a hotel or something until the repairs are done!" By now, Bakugou was panting heavily, and ready to storm off. This girl could just curl up and cry, for all he cared. But he was not about to have a complete nobody telling him that his work wasn't good enough, that he wasn't good enough, just because of one stupid house!

Others had lost residences before, but they'd been able to pay it off, and move somewhere temporarily until it was back to normal. Either that, or they had the funds to find a new place entirely. If this girl was wealthy enough to have a house of her own, then any of these options should've been no trouble. Heated stare flickering down to regard warm chocolate brown irises, he felt a jolt in his chest at the expression that greeted him.

Childish though her features may've been, it was all too apparent that what he'd said...had touched a nerve. And not in the way he'd been expecting, either. Fists clenched tightly at her sides, Uraraka was blinking back the tears, one after another, while doing everything in her power to keep from entirely screaming at the brute who'd effectively gone and stomped all over her parents' legacy.

"'Get over it'? Get over it? That's your solution? To just say "oh well, couldn't be helped", and walk away?! This was my house! My _home!_ I-I've lived here all my life! My _parents_ lived here! They-They're the ones who built this place, and left it to me! Do you know how many – how many memories are – were -" In the midst of her impassioned spiel, the brunette was cut off, by a still steaming Bakugou.

"Your parents? Well, be sure to tell them: next time, don't build a home that's practically out of the district! And if it's not even your place, then all the more it should be covered!" At this, Uraraka's jaw dropped. No...he _didn't._ He did not. He did not just -

Covered? By what, insurance? Her family had been struggling as it was. Insurance hadn't been a big thing on their minds, especially with the business they ran. They'd kept it small, figuring that if anything else happened, they'd be around to take care of it themselves with their expertise. Whatever money was available, it wouldn't be nearly enough to cover the damages here! And she herself, with the job she currently had, could barely afford to pay the monthly bills! No way would she be able to pay the remainder of the fees!

More than that, however...

"We don't have insurance. Not enough to handle this amount of damage." At this, Bakugou snorted, pulling back from her space at long last with a shake of his head. Of course. Figures that they wouldn't. The location alone spoke volumes about the intelligence levels at play here. "Then get them t'pay outta pocket! They left the place to you, right? If they're living somewhere else, they should be able to manage that." Before Uraraka could protest, he shoved a finger in her direction. "And if they can't, then fucking start saving up, and do it yourself! Get a hotel room, and figure it out! Stay with friends! Hell, use your Quirk if ya have to!"

What world did this guy come from?! Was everyone just ridiculously wealthy and successful in his universe, born with useful Quirks, no less? Was he seriously looking down on a victim of circumstance? Her life had been rough enough without him barreling in and making it ten times worse!

Taking in a deep breath, Uraraka once more bit back on her rage, and tried to clarify her position. "I don't make enough money to pay for it myself, even if I saved up – I've tr-tried to find a second job. I don't even have enough to stay in a hotel. Nor do I have anybody e-else I can room with. A-And my parents -"

By this point, Bakugou had had enough. " _ **SHUT UP!**_ "

 **A/N: Whoa, what a note to end it on, huh?**

 **SO sorry for the delay in this update; I'm still trying to cook up more material for this fic before I post, but eventually I just couldn't leave it alone. You guys deserve a new Chapter. Plus, I'm in a really good mood, seeing as next weekend is my yearly convention, & I'll finally get to share the new cosplay I've been working on the last few months. So, yay! I'm looking forward to my mini-vacation.**

 **At long last, the Noumu has been defeated. Bakugou was feeling damn proud of himself for that one... & then he remembered Uraraka. And boy oh boy, but she's not about to forget this anytime soon, any more than he. Obviously however, it's for ENTIRELY different reasons.**

 **Writing out this Chapter was tricky, b/c I was trying to balance the personalities of both Uraraka & Bakugou, as well as the situation itself, & the setup of this AU. They both have their own personal reasons for getting heated here, & while both of them definitely wouldn't back down, I also didn't want the conflict to seem petty, or unbelievable. Nor did I want anyone to come across as OOC.**

 **IDK if this is just me, but sometimes, Bakugou strikes me as being almost...sheltered, about certain things in the world or how it works? I mean, in the series, he's used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. He's also used to getting things by his own means, i.e work, & doesn't really seem very sympathetic to anyone he considers 'beneath' him. **

**He also gives me the impression of being rather well-off, outside of being a gifted hero. I could see him not having the greatest understanding that not everyone can operate the same way as he does. I mean, he did fail the exams the first time by being unable to get along w/the victims in the simulation.**

 **Plus, his pride, in a sense, is on the line, since Uraraka is kind of bringing him down; tarnishing his personal accomplishment over something very sensitive for him w/the reminder of responsibility - not only that, but that he should be the one to take care of something so...unnecessary? He confronted his demons & won, while Uraraka survived in one piece. Shouldn't that be good enough? IDK. ****At the same time, I do worry about him coming across as too harsh here.**

 **On the other hand, Uraraka. It's quite apparent that both the house & her parents mean the world to her; the memories that she shares of both are near & dear to her. To me, she's a very passionate person, in her own way. Bakugou is passionate too, but I think they have different drives about it. Their emotions run differently. To Uraraka, who practically sees her home as a living entity, Bakugou sees it as nothing more than shelter, a structure. He doesn't put the same kind of personification to these sorts of things. **

**However, Uraraka also doesn't know of his personal connection to the Noumu; she sees it as merely another fight for him, not being aware of his past. So...that is obviously not going to sit well w/someone like Bakugou. It's as though she...wants him to feel bad about all of this, as opposed to reveling in his victory? His triumph?**

 **Hopefully, this is making sense, to somebody out there. I'd really hate to just be babbling like a loony. I did my best to think these things through, & not just vomit words onto a page.**

 **On a side note: Kirishima. I loved his interactions w/Uraraka in this Chapter, & I feel like he got at least a bit more time in the spotlight, being the one to ultimately, deliver the finishing blow [once Bakugou had finished beating the Noumu to Hell & back, basically making it want to choose nonexistence over a life as the personal punching bag/target practice to one Bakugou Katsuki].**

 **As always, feedback is welcomed, appreciated, & encouraged. Still fighting to get my muse back in shape; I REALLY want to get started on the trio's lives together...once Uraraka & Bakugou are no longer at each other's throats, anyway.**

 **Next time: The conflict continues! Can Kirishima intervene in time, before some major mistakes are made? And even then, what could possibly serve as a remedy to this whole situation?**

 **Take care, everybody.**


	6. Room For One More

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku No Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the original artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

It had been a long day of _nothing_ , then finally _some_ thing, then quiet, and now **_this_** , whatever the hell ' ** _this_** ' was. Not ' _nothing_ ', but definitely a ' _some_ thing' that Bakugou didn't want to deal with any longer. People skills had never been his strongest suit, and he'd reached his limits of tolerance a while ago. He'd saved the city and this girl, but here he was, being grilled like he were the criminal on trial. How? Why?! This wasn't fair, and he'd had enough of it!

He'd called out the past on its bullshit, and in return was getting chewed out for something that he couldn't control. He'd tried, but it had just – happened! His moment of triumph was being crowded out by this incessant whining! Uraraka had been effectively stunned into silence by his roar, taking in the blond bomber with a new sense of disbelief. He was shaking, as he rounded on her with his last biting remarks. He wasn't even trying to hide it now: he was _pissed_.

"Cry, cry, _cry_. That's all I hear from you. Just expecting others to hold your hand. Your parents must've spoiled you fucking _rotten_." A pang in Uraraka's chest. "Listen here, and listen **good:** _I did my part._ I got rid of the bad guy. I didn't intend for your place t'get leveled in the fight. But it _happened_. And you clingin' onto the past and your parents like a big baby ain't gonna solve shit."

He turned his head to the side, and spat out a wad of saliva. Yuck. "Stand on your own two feet and fix it yourself! Heroes save lives! But we don't coddle. You got all this shit handed to you, while the rest o' us are fighting every day for everything we have! Be thankful you only lost a house! Would you rather be dead?! Fucking priorities – did your parents not teach you some common sense, at least?!"

These last few words may as well have been static on the air in Uraraka's hearing. All she could see, feel, hear, taste, at this point, was her own rage and anguish. This guy...just who did he think he was?! Making judgments about her, accusations against her character – more than that, talking down about her family, acting as if they were idiots for building this home, this house of dreams, and raising her as they did. Maybe even for bringing her into this world!

 ** _No._** He could trample over her all he wanted. She could take it. But _never_ would she allow somebody to besmirch her parents names and honor. They'd given her everything she had, yes. However, she'd been fighting for the last few years to keep that 'everything', all on her own. Nobody else, just her. She hadn't asked for help – she didn't even have anywhere to turn! All she could rely on was her own two Quirkless hands.

Sure, she could tell him. That her parents were dead. That she was dirt poor. That she was without a Quirk. But one after another, the points fell flat, coming across as excuses rather than reasons. Based off of what she'd seen of this guy already, he'd just throw them back at her with that same biased, aggressive arrogance. She wasn't about to give him more ammunition to fuel his bitter fire.

In the end, though...these 'Quirkless hands' would be good for one thing, if only that. She didn't care if it hurt, if it went on her record, any of it. She knew this would come back to bite her in the rear later, but at this moment in time, Uraraka had reached _her_ breaking point. In the course of a few hours, she'd lost everything. _**Again**_. The only difference is that before, she hadn't had somebody simultaneously laughing and screaming in her face.

Face. That face, in particular. That scowling, hateful-seeming, strong-jawed visage that stood before her. A hero, **him?** Ha! He had the power, sure. The skills, even. But they couldn't hide the obvious, the apparent, what lurked behind his sharp stare: He had no heart. No understanding. No compassion. Only drive and ego. A pride that was nearly overwhelming in its current toxicity.

In an instant, Uraraka's hand had swung back.

 **…...**

Kirishima had no idea when the dial had been cranked up to 100, or who had decided to put the pedal to the metal, and floor it. He hadn't seen that complete 180 of a tailspin coming; one moment, they'd been doing a routine, if extended patrol around their ward in the city. The next, they'd been fighting a goddamn Noumu. Then, they'd been saving a girl from being crushed by her own home, all while still kicking chimera ass.

But now? Now he was watching his pal and comrade blow a gasket, telling a shell-shocked victim of crime to basically fuck off, because she'd unknowingly stepped on his unspoken, therapeutic moment of redemption by scrambling that beast's brains across what remained of her front yard. It wasn't uncommon for Bakugou to have issues with crowd control or socializing; he could do it, but only in moderation. However, it usually took time for him to reach his limit.

Here, though? His rage was on full display for all to see. And it was aimed entirely at this round faced, soft-spoken young woman of small stature. She looked torn between full-on waterworks, and full-on slugging him with whatever force she could muster in those tiny, gentle-seeming fists of hers, no matter how tightly they were clenched. Even as Bakugou's voice had turned from a growl to a howl, she still hadn't traded any sort of real insult or comeback. Her expression had simply continued to darken rapidly.

That was because, as far as retorts went, she wasn't planning to offer any. As Kirishima had started walking over, ready to play the goofy mediator and assuage both sides, he'd seen it: the unspoken snap in her demeanor, her whole presence. Once Bakugou had uttered those last words about her parents and common sense, it was as though she'd figuratively caved in on herself. One of those tense, trembling hands, balled up at her side, had begun lifting, it and its owner's eyes trained entirely on Bakugou's face. Kirishima had felt his heart practically fall into his stomach with a dreadful thud. He knew what was coming, and so did Bakugou – he wasn't a hero for nothing, his reflexes were honed for these sorts of things.

Right now however, given the state he was in? Everybody was one step away from the edge, and about to break. Considering the personal circumstances involved...there was far more to lose here than just their licenses if that strike actually connected with his companion's face. Bakugou was in no state of mind to be taking such actions reasonably, hero or not. At the same time, neither was this woman, in regards to how he'd handled her situation.

Obviously, this house meant something to her, more than just being personal shelter. But they wouldn't be able to solve anything if everything devolved into a full-on brawl between hero and civilian! The redhead had seen Bakugou in school. And although he'd made progress from who he was then, he still had some things to work on. And he never took it easy on anyone. **_Ever._**

Kirishima's legs had never hurt so bad in those few sparse seconds trying to clear the distance between him and the quarreling pair. Uraraka's fist was already swinging forwards, on a collision course with solid jaw. Bakugou's crimson stare had already caught it in his sights, and his rough hand was prepared to grab a delicate wrist in an unfriendly grip, pull, and then –

"Ouch!" The cry that flew from Uraraka's lips, mixed with the sudden pain at connecting with a solid, lumpy surface, was enough to startle her from her emotional daze, effectively bringing her back into the moment: beside her demolished house, in front of a dismissive, angry blond. He'd just dragged her parents through the mud verbally, and she'd been about to...to...

...pull something really, really, _really_ stupid, and attempt, for once in her life, to seriously crack somebody one out of pure frustration. Anguish. Uraraka had never raised a hand against another, in her entire life – aside from the contact that had occurred back at the restaurant the one night during that unfortunate encounter. But those circumstances were completely different from what was happening here. Back then, she'd been fighting for her safety. Here, she was responding in wounded retaliation.

Who knows what would've happened if her fist had actually connected, or if she hadn't been stopped at all? Forget just a black mark or arrest. Catching a glance at the face of her male target, a faint shudder rippled through her body. If looks could kill, she'd have been already arranged into a tidy little shrine.

But it hadn't. No, her knuckles were sore, but not from socking jowls. Instead, her eyes landed on the third figure, wedged between them and giving her a sheepishly grit grin, muscular arm slowly reverting back to normal skin consistency. Lowering his hand, he turned his attention to his partner, who now had a mixture of both fiery indignation and begrudging relief to his features. Shaking his head, the middleman turned to regard Uraraka once more.

"Hey there...I'm sorry. Could you give us a minute...or two? Maybe five?" And without waiting for a response, simply offering a quick nod of his head, Kirishima had grabbed a hold of Bakugou's wrist, and began dragging him across the blackened yard.

Most of the time, he wouldn't dare to attempt such a thing, but considering what had nearly gone down a few seconds ago, he figured that he was entitled to a freebie, just this once. Considering that, for all his protests and digging in of heels, the blond hadn't actively tried to lash out at the contact, it seemed that luck was on his side.

Once they'd managed a couple yards distance between their respective groups, Bakugou finally yanked his arm away, and fixed Kirishima with a quietly steaming glare. However, he wasn't about to tear the redhead a new one just yet. He could at least understand that stopping the physical confrontation was a good thing. Hauling him off to the side like a child throwing a temper tantrum that needed a stern talking to? Yeah, not so much.

"Speak." Kirishima refused to flinch at his order. They weren't in school anymore. While he was willing to default to the blond on some matters, or even entirely back down on others, this was not one of those times. Whatever may have led up to this, Bakugou was in the wrong. He'd stepped out of line as a hero tonight. And casting a quick look back at Uraraka, who was now looking down at her hands as though she'd thrown a litter of kittens out a window, he knew he – no, _they_ – had to make it right.

Taking a deep breath, Kirishima regarded his partner with the most level stare he could manage. "...you know that that wasn't okay. Whatever you're feeling right now – and whether or not you'll admit it, you are – it doesn't give you the right to act this way. I know you're trying to keep it together. To keep yourself in check, after all that's happened." No response. "Seriously, though? That was **_not_** cool to watch." Bakugou still made no motion of having registered his words, and Kirishima continued. "Dude, if I hadn't stepped in...what would you have done? If she'd hit you? Or, if she'd tried?" He added on the last bit, knowing full well of his partner's pride, and that the brunette's hand wouldn't have made contact anyway.

Letting out a huff, the blond finally cocked his head back with a petulant sneer. "She started it. Getting in my face like that, after I saved her life, and for what? All over a stupid house." Glancing over the redhead's shoulder at the wreckage, his eyes narrowed. "What's so special about this place, huh? Sure as hell wasn't built outta gold. And, it's all the way down in a dead-end. How's that make any sense?" If other houses had been bunched up around it, that would've been better. But seeing as they'd picked such an open location; effectively creating a one-way street when there was none, just baffled Bakugou with irritation.

Kirishima sighed. At least his friend was being honest. But they still had to fix it. Technically, he'd been the one to save her...though at the same time, he was also the reason why her stairs were but a distant memory. This was not the time to be splitting hairs, though, so he kept it to himself. "It doesn't matter who started it, it was _wrong_. You know this! I mean, come on, we've dealt with difficult people before, and you've still managed to keep your head!" Even as he was pretty certain he knew the reason for Bakugou's outburst, he wanted to be sure. He needed his pal to admit it, fair and square. Then, and only then, could they find a way to go from here.

Gnashing teeth, and a fiery stare. A few more seconds of furious seething. Then, finally, the release. "I had t'go through how much _shit_ the last time I saw one of those fuckers! For how many _years_ , I've dreamed of getting my revenge, if not on those League bastards, then at least beating the shit outta one of their little puppets! And I got to, tonight! After nine goddamn years, and having been suspended before when it first happened!"

A pause, to take a few much needed heavy breaths. "It's like a-a-a – I don't fucking know, retribution?! After all the shit I couldn't do back then!" So, Kirishima had been correct. Bakugou was taking this encounter far more personal than just the typical battle. That girl had triggered his hot button.

"And she doesn't respect us!" The comment was biting, even while being an assumption. "We saved her _life,_ and she's not even grateful! All she did was keep making excuses, like we're obligated to take care of her or something now! Because of **_that fucking house!_** " Another spit of saliva mingling with blood. "Other people have lost their homes in hero conflict before, but you don't see them whining and bitching like a spoiled brat!"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Bakugou was obviously holding back a few more choice curses on the matter, given how hard he was panting, coupled with the expression on his face. Kirishima was allowing his words to sink in.

He didn't know this girl very well. This was true. But, he hadn't gotten any sort of impression that she was conceited, or looking down on them. She'd been scared, sure. That had been more than apparent, and it made sense. Even in the chaos though, she'd still been polite to him in her panic, when asking to retrieve those things on the other side of her trashed parlor.

And she'd apologized for her first outburst, before trying to explain herself further. When Bakugou had started going off on her, she'd kept at it, quietly determined to get a word in edgewise. It was only after the last crack he'd made about her parents, that the brunette had finally snapped, and taken that swing at him.

She wasn't aware of his past, most likely, or how involved they were with the existence of Noumus. Considering her lack of action in the conflict, she probably wasn't equipped with any sort of Quirk suitable for fighting. How was that something to be faulted for, though? Yeah, she was unaware, but it wasn't a crime. Just because she didn't know the ins and outs of their history didn't make her a bad person. Sheltered, sure. But not evil.

The house was her parents' home. They'd entrusted it to her; based off of her behavior, it was clear that they didn't live here. Perhaps that was part of why she was upset? The responsibility involved? Kirishima could understand that; as a kid, it always sucked when you messed up, and had to tell your folks about what you'd done. He'd done that plenty of times. Once he'd started attending UA, he'd just replaced 'parents' with 'teachers' and 'heroes'. Ultimately, she didn't want to bother them, and make them have to cover the damages the insurance couldn't reach. She didn't want to face them with the extra layer of shame.

Taking into account how anxious she was, there must not have been much of a safety net under the place, either. Then again, considering how far away from the main hustle and bustle they were, it made sense, however troublesome, that they wouldn't have expected such things to land, quite literally, on their doorstep. She also mentioned having tried to look for a second job for her income, and having failed. So, that probably meant that she was having her own money problems on top of that, too.

This was a very messy situation they'd landed in. Yes, Bakugou had a point – most cases in which conflicts caused damages, either the managers of the residences or the insurance companies, or a mix of both, would cover the bills. The affected would either be off of work until the repairs were finished, or they'd stay somewhere else temporarily. Most of them had enough money for hotels or motels, or could simply turn to friends. If this girl was having financial issues however, then it made sense why she'd stated being unable to stay anywhere else.

It was a bit sad too...she'd also stated that she had no one else she could room with. If she was really that set on not bothering her folks, then he could see why she wouldn't turn to them. It was also possible that her parents had moved far away. Depending on where she worked, it might've been impossible for her to make the daily commute. But no friends, too? No contacts? Nobody to hang out with? That didn't sound like much of a life. Who knew how often she was working to cover the payments on this place, as well?

Heroes didn't have to worry so much: one of the easiest lures towards the lifestyles was the paycheck, which would increase steadily the more notches were secured on one's belt; the higher their popularity rose. Although he and Bakugou weren't considered full-on 'pros', they had their reputations from their UA days to vouch for their skills. So that already gave them an advantage over the rest of the 'New Guard' that were patrolling the streets nowadays. They weren't swimming in wealth, but they were living comfortably enough.

Kirishima returned his focus to his partner, who was alternating between kicking at the ground, spitting, and casting deep-seated glares at the young woman across the way. Said young woman was currently sitting on the ground, legs drawn up and arms wrapped around shoulders, trembling slightly. Oh, God. Was she crying? _Please, no. I don't know if I could take it..._ Kirishima knew he'd be a sucker for the waterworks, even more so knowing that he'd had a direct hand in causing them.

Bakugou however, would only be back on track to losing his temper yet again. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was perceived weakness. And considering his earlier infraction with her...yeah, they had to figure out a solution to this dilemma. Thinking over his words carefully, Kirishima finally came to a conclusion. Regarding Bakugou with a steady gaze, he called out. "Oi."

The blond turned to him sharply, lips drawn back over clenched teeth, and nostrils flaring. "Ehh? The fuck you want now? The sirens are gonna be swarming this place soon, so we don't have the time t'be standing around any longer twiddling our thumbs!" Casting one last bitter look in the girl's direction, he prepared to head towards the road. "Hurry up before the old farts come out here already!"

In response, Kirishima grabbed his arm once more. The sudden tug caught Bakugou's attention, though not in any sort of good way. His red eyes were ready to start boring holes into his companion from the sheer anger hidden behind them. "What _**now?!**_ "

Glancing back once more at the forlorn young woman huddled on the scorched earth, Kirishima inhaled slowly. He could still remember the look in her eyes as she'd pleaded with him to help her. The sound of her voice: frantic, but clear. How she'd held onto him so securely, placing all her faith in this completely off-the-wall looking stranger. How she'd struggled to keep herself together when dealing with his partner – which was absolutely amazing, considering that she'd had no prior exposure to someone like him before.

Aside from the attempt at negative physical contact – which she'd backed down from as soon as Kirishima had stepped in – she seemed to be a good person. She had to be around their age, and the thought of someone who could've been alongside them in school, winding up on the rough streets...and all because _**they'd**_ unintentionally ruined her home...

"Bakugou...I have an idea how to solve all this." The male arched an eyebrow. **_Really?_** Hair-For-Brains _actually_ had a strategy here? Had the blows from the battle rattled his brain, or what existed of it? "It's kinda crazy, but...it's all I've got." Fixing his face with the most stoically confident gaze he could manage, Kirishima could only hope to get the message across without any more confrontations. "Because...if those higher-ups get here, and hear her story...forget suspension, we'll lose our licenses _completely._ "

Even the redhead wasn't immune to the hollow thud in his chest; the thought of the one thing he'd fought so hard to accomplish in his youth, being stripped away entirely in the course of one night. It was more than this that he'd come up with the plan, but he still wasn't about to give up on his heroics career over this. And if Bakugou wouldn't listen to the emotional half of things, then maybe this would be the part to make it through his thick skull.

Indeed, the blond was now regarding him bitterly, but thoughtfully. Bakugou wasn't happy with the current situation, or the girl involved, but Kirishima spoke the truth here. If they couldn't find a solution, they were all screwed. And like hell he was going to be taken out in such a way. He'd set out to be the world's greatest hero, better than All Might. No matter if the man had retired how long ago, and under such unbelievable circumstances, of which he had partially been tied to. The goal still stood. He was a legend for life.

And Bakugou was a fighter, through and through. How shameful would it be, to not even go out by a battle, but because of misconduct?! Bullshit! He wouldn't accept that! _**Never.**_ "...fine. What do you suggest we do then, genius? We can't exactly rebuild her fucking house in a few minutes."

Now Kirishima was smiling, albeit a bit shakily. Turning his attention back to the hunched figure on the ground a few yards away, he released Bakugou's arm, and started heading towards her. "Just...follow my lead."

It was an extreme plan he'd cooked up, in those moments and minutes of looking over the situation and setup. But they were supposed to be heroes, right? And heroics went beyond just carting off bad guys. There was more than one way to save a life. His partner...would probably kill him for this, either once he found out, after it failed – _if_ it failed – or after it worked, which, while ridiculous, was the best-case scenario.

 _But real men don't run away._ Kirishima had promised this to himself back then, almost ten years ago. And he intended to keep his word. Even if it didn't pan out...at least they'd tried. Bakugou followed behind him, hands roughly shoved in pockets as he trooped behind, then alongside, and finally ahead of him. Kirishima swallowed a thick lump in his throat.

Was he going to wind up a miracle worker...or dead as a doornail? And what _would_ this round-faced stranger have to say about it, in the end?

 **…...**

Honestly, the sting in her hand after having connected with that redhead's unusually solid skin hadn't hurt nearly as much as the nigh-crippling realization that had settled into the pit of her stomach. Watching him lead that hard-headed, volatile blond away, Uraraka could only look down at those same hands, which not a moment earlier, had been clenched and ready for action of the worst kind.

Never. Never ever. No matter how upset she got, Uraraka could not find it in herself to condone any sort of violent rebuttal. It was one thing if you were in a life or death situation, and trying to defend yourself. It was another thing if you were a professional hero, and it was part of your job to fight.

But this? Striking another just to satiate a personal, petty rage against either a situation or person?

 _Almost...I...I **almost**..._ The thought made the brunette's legs quiver, like jelly tapped by a spoon. What would her parents have said, if they could've seen her now? Yes, he'd insulted their honor and memory. Yes, he'd wrecked their house. Yes, he'd been condescending to her, too.

However. He hadn't once laid a hand on her. Based off of his speech and mannerisms, even as a hero, he certainly could've, simply due to his temper. And he'd even mentioned something about getting his license back during the battle; did that refer to his career? If so, what had it been suspended for? Had he...possibly gotten into a confrontation with someone else in the past? Another shudder to her already wobbling frame. He must've been doing everything he could've to keep from making that same mistake.

Or...had he lost it for some other reason?

Even after his partner had gotten between them, he hadn't spat back any sort of retort, nor had he tried to push him away, and get at her. He'd allowed the redhead to lead him off, and, although she'd been able to make out some indistinguishable yelling from their end, plus a few nasty looks, he hadn't come storming back to cave her face in. He really respected his partner, it seemed. It was either that, or...

...he had spiraled out of control in the heat of the moment, just like she had. Was it possible? This trigger-happy jerk, having a shred of goodness in him? Truth be told, she didn't actually know him outside of this encounter, so...for all she knew, he worked at animal shelters, gave money to the homeless, and read to the kids at the public library on weekends. He could be a really nice guy, pushed to his limits because of the prior conflict. He was actually human, after all.

Thinking about it that way, Uraraka could feel the guilt settling in, like heavy invisible lead weights upon her shoulder. Gradually, she began to fold towards the dirt, until she found herself sitting in it, a tiny, squishy pale speck under a deep, endless sky. Drawing up her legs close to her chest, personal items pressed in tight against her abdomen, Uraraka felt as though she just wanted to shrink away into nothing.

Her parents wouldn't have hated her for tonight, sure. But...they wouldn't have been proud of her, either.

 _Oh no...no, no no..._ She could feel them, prickling behind her tired eyes. That sensation, tickling her nose. Pressing her face into her knees, Uraraka sniffled, fighting to calm herself down and drive away the tears. After everything she'd gone through, along with that stupid stunt she'd attempted earlier, crying would not help matters. If anything, she didn't deserve to cry – not when she'd nearly made it worse.

Taking in slow, heavy breaths, she began to rock gently, back and forth, focusing on the motions instead of the urge to break down sobbing. _It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's going to be okay..._ Over and over again, she repeated these words inside her head: her familiar go-to mantra for life. Even if it seemed like everything was lost...it would be okay. Somehow. Right?

Maybe...maybe living on the streets wouldn't be so bad? Hey, lots of fresh air! No worries about home payments or bills anymore! She could practice being frugal; the house had been too cluttered anyways. It wasn't like she needed a lot of things to live. She could find some cheap clothes, a small bag, and along with her uniform, just make sure to wash them regularly, wherever she could find. A public bathroom, perhaps? They'd have soap there, too.

As far as bathing went...well, if worst came to worst, she could just plunge into a river, and dry off on the bank. She didn't have to strip, either. Just go in fully clothed, and switch outfits at the next restroom stall she could find. A pre-wash to the regular bathroom laundering. And for when she couldn't shower...some cheap drugstore perfume could work there? Maybe a small deodorant stick, too? As long as it could all fit in one bunch without weighing her down...if anything, maybe she could just use a plastic bag from one of the stores?

Yeah...yeah, this could work! And she was small too, so she wouldn't need a lot of room to make herself comfy in. She could learn to sleep sitting up against a wall. Samurai used to do it, so could she. It wouldn't be too hard keeping things secret from her coworkers either, so long as she kept her hygiene in order. It wasn't like Monoma would ask questions about her. Mail might be a problem, so she'd just have to stop using anything that required it. That shouldn't be too hard without a house now.

Without the majority of her money going towards bills, she'd have more than enough to survive on, as far as food went. So she wouldn't starve. If she got really lucky, perhaps she'd even find a cardboard box, to use as shelter until it fell apart! Yeah, yeah – this could work! It really could! As long as she kept a low profile, she wouldn't be harassed by other vagrants or the law, either.

So caught up in her homeless fantasy of the future, Uraraka didn't even notice that the two males had returned to her side, until the unmistakeable rough clearing of a throat, out of annoyance, reached her ears. Heart skipping and head snapping upwards, she took in the stares of the figures staring down at her: the redhead, with a small, somewhat nervous smile, and the blond, still scowling but not enough for her to worry about her safety.

Carefully, Uraraka stood up, placing her things upon the ground, and doing her best not to sway. The immense weight from before hadn't yet dissipated completely, but at least she no longer had the urge to cry. Taking in one last slow, deep inhale, she regarded the two males with a calmer, more resigned presence. She was still a bit wary, though. What if...what if their fight was triggered again? What if she did something else stupid? What if the redhead couldn't stop his partner in time? What if they all got in trouble?

A few moments of silence passed. Uraraka's brown eyes flickered back and forth between the pair, wondering which one of them was going to speak first. Or was she supposed to? She wasn't sure what she would say; anything she could think of seemed far too loaded, and ripe for disaster. The longer the quiet extended on for, the more irritated the blond seemed to be. Beside him, his partner was trying not to fidget; a couple of times, he appeared about to say something, but then stopped. It took another minute or two before the explosive one finally snapped.

" **OI!** Shitty Hair! I thought you said you had an answer to all this! Fucking spit it out already, before I beat it outta you!" Well. That was a great start to this 'peace talk', if you could call it that. Uraraka's heart had jolted in mild fear, even as the threat hadn't been aimed at her. However, the words had served their purpose, getting through to the redhead at last. Startled from his contemplative daze, he finally cast his eyes over to Uraraka's own. Offering her a gentle, if sheepish gaze, he began to speak.

"Listen, I...we're sorry, really, for all of this. It...it wasn't supposed t'turn out this way. We came out here to keep the damages down, since we thought this area would be more open. We didn't know our way around very well though, so...we had no idea there was a house at the end of all this. We were just aiming for the woods." So far, so good. The young woman was listening; her expression wasn't clear, but she didn't seem angry. And if Kirishima could've seen her thoughts, he'd have been correct. Uraraka was taking in his words, mulling them over in her head as they came through. It did make sense.

Most likely, that beast had started out somewhere in the city. That's how almost all conflicts played out. And, for all the damage that was inevitably caused during calamities, no hero set out to purposefully make them. It just happened. Interesting that they'd been so specifically focused on keeping things intact though, to the point where they'd come all the way out here. It was a weird strategy, but she could understand where they were coming from. Just...

As if reading her thoughts, the male continued on. "Y'see, my buddy here – awesome hero that he is - " At hearing this, Bakugou's chest puffed out just a bit with familiar pride. "Damn straight," he interjected. Rolling his eyes, Kirishima kept going. "As I was saying...his skills are second-to-none. But - "

A dangerous flash of vivid vermilion eyes. "But what?" His tone was just daring the redhead to finish his statement. Of course Bakugou would respond this way. Sighing, Kirishima shook his head. "But, his Quirk, as you've seen, can be...a lot to handle. And, while he does his absolute best at being a hero...sometimes, mistakes - "

Now, a threatening growl. "' _Mistakes_ '?" Okay, Kirishima was starting to get annoyed with all these interruptions. "Fine, _things_. Things happen. Like...buildings getting blown up, and..." He gestured with his hands, trying to find the right way to state the next bit, without getting cut off yet again. "...the wrong interactions, with the wrong people. Verbally, not physically." Kirishima wasn't sure whether he should've added on a "thankfully" at the end of that. "Which can result in certain...privileges, being revoked - "

At this, Bakugou let out a barking laugh. "What, losing my license? HA! That stupid twit had it coming! Pro hero or not – **_nobody_** questions my skills and gets away with it! I 'fessed up to the damages, but at least I got the criminal! But that wasn't good enough, oh no! Started bitching at me like I'd intended to target the museum – we had to study that shit in school, and yeah, history was fucking boring, but I didn't have a personal agenda against the place or nothin'! He just wanted to show off, 'cause he's a newbie who got up to the 'pro' leagues by being an ass-kisser!"

Uraraka flinched a little at the vulgarity, but it was starting to make more sense. He hadn't gotten in trouble for anything combat-related. He'd lost his title temporarily for severe damage to an important place – come to think of it, hadn't she vaguely heard about the encounter among some gossip at the restaurant? - and mouthing off at someone of higher rank than him. He should've known better, though based off of what she'd seen of his personality, he didn't seem like the type to follow authority. Odd that he'd chosen the path of a hero, but...

"So...you came out here to fight...to avoid getting in hot water again if things went south in the city." She was phrasing her words as carefully as she could; the last thing she needed was not being able to get out a single sentence because the blond had a problem with her word usage. Luckily, she received a relieved, beaming grin from the redhead, and silent indifference from his partner.

"I see..." Knowing their reasons and motivation did help to ease a bit of the tension, but...it still didn't change things. Her house was gone. And she was mentally preparing herself for a life on the streets.

She could at least apologize one more time before accepting her fate, though. Clasping her hands together, Uraraka leaned forward in a deep bow. "I'm sorry...for my earlier actions. That was shameful of me...to raise a hand against you...and to make such assumptions as to your intentions in being here."

Kirishima was now waving his hands, telling her that it was okay, she didn't have to go that far in her apology, that it was water under the bridge. Bakugou was simply regarding her with a cool stare. Hmph. She'd owned up to what she'd done wrong. Still annoying to deal with, but he'd be willing to accept it. As long as this whole thing would be sorted out, he'd be satisfied. She didn't have to kiss his feet. Much.

"Well..." Turning to face the shell of her former home, Uraraka let out a soft sigh. "Guess I'd better get ready." As she prepared to attempt the treacherous trek through the remains for what she needed, the redhead's face fell slightly, before he quickly blocked her way. "Oi, what are you doing?!"

She looked at him plainly. "I have to grab my uniform for work. Everything else is lost, but that should be okay – it's downstairs, in the back. And then I gotta find a place to stay. Hopefully, the nearby park'll be deserted. I can sleep on the bench, and hang my clothes to dry somewhere." At hearing this, Kirishima felt his face pale. She...she wasn't serious, was she? She really had nowhere else to go?

Even Bakugou raised an eyebrow at her statement. He wasn't about to intervene, but...the dumb girl really thought she'd be okay outside? She wouldn't last a day on the open streets.

Uraraka was already trying to maneuver around him. Her expression hadn't changed. Yep. She was. In that instant, Kirishima made up his mind. Screw crazy. His plan may've been bonkers, but the thought of letting this girl go off and potentially get herself killed because she didn't have enough funds to put a temporary roof over her head? Yeah, that was the true epitome of madness. He was a hero, but first and foremost, he was a _man_. Hell, they went hand-in-hand!

Holding out his arms, he refused to let her past. "W-Wait! Just hear me out!" Now Uraraka looked confused. "What if...what if we could get you a second job? To help you make more money to patch this place up? The pay'll be good, I promise!" Upon hearing this, Bakugou fixed his partner with an arresting stare. Just what was Kirishima getting at here?

Uraraka tilted her head. "A second job...?" It was true, she'd been looking for one before. But lack of fruition had eventually caused her to drop the search. Although it would mean more work, it'd be a change of pace, after spending most of her time at the Mimic Grill. She could drop a shift or two to take on something new. Monoma most likely wouldn't complain, even if she was his figurative punching bag, and, as much as she'd miss her coworkers, she knew that they'd be happy for her getting some time away from their boss. The only problems were...

"What would this job be, exactly? And..." Trying not to let the worry layer her words, Uraraka addressed the elephant in the room. "...I still wouldn't have a place to stay, what with the money all going towards the repairs."

Now, the redhead's eyes were sparkling, as he regarded his partner. Was that a good thing, or...? "Hey. You hate paperwork, right? And scheduling, keeping track of appointments, all that crap?" What was Kirishima up to? The hell did any of that have to do with the current conversation? Nodding slowly, the blond replied. "Yeah...I do. It's a pain in the ass. _So what?_ "

Looking between the two of them, the brawler decided to drop the bomb, at long last: "She can work with us, at our agency. We need a secretary." Both Bakugou and Uraraka's jaws fell at hearing this, though it was nothing compared to what he said next.

"And until you have a new option on where to stay, you can room at our place!"

 **A/N: FINAL-FUCKING-LY. Here we are: Chapter Six. It took a while, but at long last, it's here. Hopefully, it was worth waiting for.  
**

 **Apologies for the delay, AGAIN. I feel like so many of my Notes consist of this sort of message, but life...REALLY hasn't been kind to me recently. ATM, my computer's acting wonky, and I'm borrowing wi-fi at the local Starbucks, b/c the connection at my place has been out for weeks, and IDK if/when it's coming back. Add to that some personal problems [health, physical and mental]...yeah, this summer SUCKS.**

 **As for this story...this is the last Chapter I have completed. I've been struggling w/a BAD Writer's Block for a while now. I know how I want this fic to progress, certain highlights and even the ending, but there are details along the way that I've gotten hung up on, that I haven't been able to brainstorm my way out of. And I have nobody to talk to about this kind of stuff, at least where I am [most friends aren't into this sort of thing].**

 **So...if ANYBODY here has a bit of time, and would be willing to offer a bit of insight, or just a second pair of eyes to go over what I've got so far, I'd be ETERNALLY grateful. I REALLY don't want this story to wind up in WB Limbo; I enjoy the idea, and the series it's from. I don't want it to go to waste.**

 **Until next time everyone, take care.**


	7. Why Don't You Come Over

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Boku no Hero Academia'. All rights belong to Horikoshi Kouhei. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned. All rights belong to the respective artists. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.**

Silence. Absolute, unfiltered, untouched, marred by nothing. From the smoldering remains of the yard and house, to the extensive, looming woods behind, and back to the three people gathered together at the end of the street. Not a sound escaped from a single source – it was almost as if the world itself had stopped turning, in just the course of a few seconds.

The entire time, that sunny grin hadn't left Kirishima's face, even as Uraraka and his partner continued to stare, in abject disbelief. The girl wasn't sure whether to take his words seriously, or start worrying whether or not he'd suffered some extreme blunt-force trauma during the battle prior. It was as this question began to present itself in her mind, that the blond beside her seemed to have finally regained control of his senses and voice.

Boy, did he have _something_ to say.

"What...the **_fuck_** are you on about?! I thought that damn hair had only touched your ears – it's all the way to your stupid brain now, apparently!" Bakugou could practically feel the steam coming off of his face – considering his Quirk, he wouldn't have been surprised if it were actually there. _This?_ _This_ was what his partner had come up with? This was his so-called 'solution'?!

It was one thing to offer a complete and utter stranger a place in their daily routine, courtesy of work – a stranger who, at this point in time was also coming across as utterly useless, too – but to go so far as to let her _live_ with them?! Had Kirishima taken one too many blows to the head, without his Quirk in play? Huh, if only he'd known just how close his and the brunette's ideas had been running on that specific train of thought.

If Bakugou was freaking out over his partner's suggestion, it was a safe bet that Uraraka too, had been gobsmacked by this sudden turn of events. Reacting with a searching, wide-eyed stare, she could find no trace of mocking in Kirishima's expression. His features were lit up with hope, though his brow was a bit creased, thanks to his pal's prior screeching. But he was one-hundred-percent serious about the arrangement.

Yes, Uraraka was still smarting a tad from Bakugou's earlier chewing out. Yes, she was still hurting about her lost house. Yes, she had wanted some sort of proper resolution to all of this; they were heroes, and their job didn't just extend to fighting. They needed some sort of compassion in their line of work, even a little. Granted, she was rather wary as to whether or not the blond may have somehow managed to sidestep this particular qualification completely, but that was neither here nor there.

What was important was that, the entire situation had just taken a turn, completely for the...well, she couldn't say it was worse. But it was most certainly strange and extreme. There was empathy, and then there was...well, this, whatever it was that her savior – saviors? - were offering. Perhaps it was a way to make up for the cold brashness of his comrade before? If so, the redhead was definitely going above and beyond the line of duty. She'd simply been expecting some sort of brainstorming session on her possible other options, not a job recommendation and invitation into their personal abode!

While Bakugou continued to gnash his teeth into the figuratively heated air, murderous aura flowing off of him in waves, Uraraka cleared her throat softly, though it was loud enough to catch the redheaded brawler's attention. Focusing his sheepishly cheerful expression on her, she did take note of the fact that it was seeming to weaken. She didn't blame him for being uncertain now – personable though he may've been, more so than his partner, anyway - getting snapped at like that couldn't be easy for him, in a situation like this. Even if he was more familiar with the blond's outbursts than she. It really felt as though this kind of event had never occurred before in their time as heroes. Were they new, perhaps? They were on the younger side...

Hoping that her features and tone weren't coming across as harsh, Uraraka began to speak.

"While I...am grateful for your rescue, and your current...suggestion," and at this the light grew just a bit brighter in the male's mahogany eyes, "I don't...I don't want to be rude, but..." Oh, now the spark was fading again. Trying to keep the guilt at bay, she continued on. "I mean, you saved my life, but I – I don't even know either of you. And as much as I could use the extra funds, I'm not even certain what this sort of job would entail."

She bit her lip, eyebrows furrowing together. "In the end...yes, I do – I do need help. On the other hand..." A hard swallow then; Uraraka couldn't help but feel as though she were stomping all over the heart of the male before her, just by the look on his face. He had really been genuine about this, then. "Who would just – just go off with strangers, even – even if they are heroes?"

At this, Bakugou shot a fierce glare, between both the brunette and his partner. As much as he loathed her questioning of his character, he was ultimately still incensed over the fact that Kirishima had actually thought this whole disaster of a plan was really the best answer to such a clusterfuck that they were currently dealing with. Practically hissing through his clenched teeth, he rounded on his comrade.

"Yeah, listen to – to _her_. This makes no sense at all. We're heroes, not a goddamn charity!" It had taken all of his strength to bite his tongue, and refrain from calling the girl before him any sort of name which, while in his eyes would've been completely honest and accurate, to others would've come across as straight up rude. Now, both he and Uraraka were looking toward the third member of their makeshift group.

The woman was torn, between whether she should've just said "To heck with it!" and jumped on the offer, or if she should've just continued to steel herself; to avoid any further contact between her and this pair of oddballs, and get used to life on the streets. What would her parents say, if they could see this happening now? Which option would they choose, if these were truly the only ones left?

She also couldn't help but admit...it did sting a little, to have the blond dismiss her situation so callously. Not that he was obligated to share his place, let alone business with her, mind you. Just...being able to brush her off so effortlessly, like she didn't matter. Well, given her status, maybe she really didn't matter, especially to people so much more...privileged and productive than she...

Bakugou himself was aggravated at his knucklehead of a partner. There was being kind, and then there was just downright idiocy. He'd never been one for handouts; if people couldn't get what they wanted out of life, it was simply because they weren't working hard enough, or didn't care to. Everybody had a choice in how they wanted their lives to turn out. You could choose to be good, and successful, or you give up, and become just like the rest of the extras and degenerates. That's the way the world worked – had always worked, in his eyes.

Anybody who was too weak to adapt, or couldn't pick themselves up, wasn't worthy of his attention, as far as he was concerned. Victims were victims, and he'd save everyone he could – but that didn't mean he had to be nice-nice the whole way through. In certain instances, he'd seen people who had been determined to survive, even if they couldn't fight their way out. Others had done almost everything to ensure their demises. These two extremes would either make his job ridiculously easier, or unfathomably rougher.

If he had to be social, he wanted to be around those who were capable enough of holding their own, in life or otherwise. Kirishima, for all his misguided moments, was one of his closest allies. He may not have spoken it aloud, but he did respect the guy. As much as the redhead kept on his case about his general attitude, at times, he'd still stuck with him, through thick and thin, from high school on. Hell, Kirishima had even been one of the ones there, that time when - !

 _ **No.**_ He wasn't going to focus on that again. He'd had enough of wallowing in the past for one night. The bottom line was, people like this girl before them, infuriated him to no end. She was too used to having everything taken care of for her; this house was a prominent example of that. For all he knew, she'd gotten her job from her folks as well, hired because of family ties, as opposed to actually being qualified. She said it didn't pay much though, so whatever they'd given her, it was obviously nothing to write home about.

Okay, so he didn't actually know if this was true. But, considering he was still stewing over his built-up frustrations, he felt like he were allowed at least a bit of musing – as long as it stayed inside his head.

If any of this was serving as a deterrent to his comrade however, it certainly wasn't showing through on his features. The redhead's face was eager once more, with a sharp-toothed grin a mile wide, as he regarded the brunette with a new warmth and energy.

"Yeah, you're right! We _don't_ know each other! Duh, how dense of me." No arguments there, though Bakugou would've applied it to any other situation besides forgetting his manners to a completely entitled nobody. Bowing quickly and deeply before holding out a hand – this made a vein twitch in Bakugou's temple – the male proceeded to introduce himself. "The name's Kirishima Eijirou! Or, 'Red Riot', if you wanna be professional. Eheh."

With a sudden yank, the male had wrapped his arm around Bakugou's shoulders, and pulled him in close. Damn, that smarted! Was this imbecile just asking to be drop-kicked, or what?! He was _injured_ , for fuck's sake! He wasn't incapacitated, but that didn't mean he felt absolutely nothing! He just kept it to himself! But this numskull was actively assaulting his wounds, for no good reason! "And this here is my partner, Bakugou Katsuki! Or, as he prefers, 'Ground Zero'!"

Letting go of the seething blond, he proceeded to lean in close to the girl, now speaking in a mock whisper. "Though, don't tell anyone – he actually wanted t'be 'King of Explodo-Kills', way back when we were still in school." Bakugou was all too ready to charge up a fresh blast in his hand, and send it right at his 'friend's' stupid face. He had more than enough sweat left over to do so. The blank bemusement to their audience's features did not serve to assuage his temper. If anything, it made it worse. And Kirishima wouldn't shut up.

"We're as yet considered newbies to the hero business, though we both graduated from UA." Newbies?! Hell, they'd probably seen more combat than some of the pros, in their first year at the academy! Where did Shitty Hair get off, telling this extra such bullshit?! "But, we've already got our own hero agency, and are taking the ranks by storm!"

With a flourish, he threw out his arms – and immediately winced, but did not lose his smile or enthusiasm. "We call ourselves...' **GROUND RIOT** '! Pretty catchy, huh?"

For a good few moments, yet again, there was quiet. Silence, wrapped around three distinct currents of emotional energy flowing through the air. Bakugou was already making the motions to reach out and strangle Kirishima, for everything that happened within the last minute or so. If Kirishima knew he was about to die brutally, he wasn't showing it.

However, the potential bloodbath was interrupted by a soft, but steady "Well..." followed by an "Umm..." Instantly, both males were focused on the source of the sound – whether they wanted to be or not. Oh, great. What did the ditz have to say about this, then? Because it was _so_ important to impress her!

That was sarcasm on Bakugou's end, thank you very much.

"It's...nice to meet you, Kirishima-san...Bakugou-san." Bowing hesitantly, slowly, she held out a tiny hand. "I-I'm...Uraraka Ochako." Of course. Even her fucking name had to signify just what a nitwit she was. It was no wonder her head was in the clouds.

How else was she supposed to respond to such a greeting? It was true; now, they technically weren't strangers anymore. And of course, she had to give her own name in return. But beyond that...what was her next move?

Kirishima had admitted that they were still fresh in the rescuing scene, even with their own agency. She had to acknowledge though, that for beginners, they could hold their own; how many novices could say that they'd successfully taken down something like a Noumu? But, he had said they were graduates of UA, and that place was nothing to scoff at. Wasn't that where All-Might had hailed from, too? He even still taught classes there, if she recalled correctly...

Obviously, this encounter was just as awkward for them as it was for her. Despite all the showmanship and enthusiasm, Kirishima still bore that tick of panic – manic panic, perhaps? - in his features, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. From combat to conflict, he was riding on the current high of adrenaline, and it would stop with a sudden drop only from two things: either her rejecting the offer, and them all winding up right back at square one, or dying at the hands of his possibly soon-to-be former associate.

Said explosive male beside him looked like he was about ready to bury them both under a barrage of self-ignited blasts, as though Kirishima had just signed him over into servitude to her, with the clause of a required French maid outfit. What an image, yet another Uraraka hadn't realized could exist, and sorely didn't need to, at the same time. If he'd been able to see her thoughts, Bakugou would've certainly agreed, but not before thoroughly heaving and cursing her out first, for having such a screwed up imagination to begin with.

Ultimately, what it came down to was survival. Safety. For everything that had been thrown her way in life, all leading up to this night, Uraraka was still alive and in one piece. Yes, she'd lost a whole lot, but she hadn't lost herself. However, would she still be able to claim such, if she were to turn tail and resign herself to the streets? Because, no matter how far her imagined plans may've taken her, in the end, she knew it was crazy, dangerous, and a one-way ticket to further hardship.

On the other hand...

Though she may as yet not have known them enough to be certain, Uraraka could tell, at least, that this duo took their jobs as heroes quite seriously, mistakes and all. No matter if he had been the driving cause of things, Bakugou still hadn't stormed off, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, refusing to have anything further to do with her. As much as it looked like he really just wanted to be out of there, preferably with his partner in a body bag, he wasn't running away. For all his insults and animosity, he wanted some sort of satisfying solution or conclusion. Even if it was to just ease his own mind, that had to count for something.

When her parents had died in that accident, there hadn't been anyone on duty in the area to reach them in time. Now, although technically, this crisis had been started by heroes, she was also being offered assistance by those same two faces. It was as though, perhaps...her Mother and Father were watching from above, not wanting her to go through what they did – or what she had, after she'd lost them?

Safe. They'd want her to be safe. These guys weren't her friends, but neither were they enemies. They'd saved her life, and were now trying to make peace for the damages incurred during the rescue. If her parents were here, she knew at best, they would not be encouraging her to live in a cardboard box down a shady alley.

It was time to step up, and make one of the biggest decisions in her twenty-four years upon the Earth. Locking her gaze upon the pair before her, Uraraka spoke.

"And I...I accept your offer!"

 **…...**

In all the alternate timelines, in all the alternate universes, every last world...never, ever, in his existence, even under severe duress and brain trauma, would Bakugou have imagined his life being so cataclysmically altered, in the course of one day. How many things had happened here?

First, he'd gotten his Hero License privileges restored. Good, yes. That was good. But then, he'd had a lousy shift, made up of absolute nothing. So a boo there.

Next though, he'd gotten a last-minute call on the streets, which turned out to be the greatest haul of his career: taking down a Noumu, an enemy that had, for so long, eluded his grasp while at the same time, been so intricately intertwined with how much of the past that had shaped him up to the here and now. Not only that, but he'd won! He'd kicked its ass straight to Kingdom Come! And - oh yeah, Shitty Hair had helped, too.

Unfortunately, there had been a bit of property damage involved, more than he'd planned on, at least. One whole house had been lost in the scuffle, which sucked, but hey. These things happened, and hero work wasn't a perfect, paint by-the-numbers sort of business. You couldn't control everything that would occur on a battlefield, wherever it might fall. It was a loss, but one he could live with.

That was, until... _she'd_ come along. _**Her**_. That insufferable, wide-eyed, rosy-faced, squishy-cheeked pest, who owned the now near-demolished estate, and had made damn sure he'd known it. Not only that, but she expected him to do something about it. That, _oh **no**_ , saving her sorry butt wasn't good enough; doing his goddamn job as a hero wasn't cutting it. _No_ , he was supposed to magically invent a solution out of thin air, to appease her, when in actuality his duty had ended as soon as Kirishima had sent that fucker's head flying with a punt that would've made the American Football teams proud.

He'd snapped. Completely lost it on her and her stupid baby face. Nearly jeopardized his career for a second time too, had she hit him when she'd tried, before Kirishima had stepped in and dragged him off. Speaking of...

Kirishima. Yes, the redheaded bastard had a point. Even if he'd been more thoughtful with his words and mannerisms, the short of it was that this situation didn't bode well for them, once the cops and Old Guard arrived on the scene. The fact that, once again, they – specifically he – were being tied to massive collateral damage, this time resulting in a seemingly innocent and helpless victim being rendered homeless?

Yeah. He could just about kiss his Hero's License goodbye.

Well before they'd graduated and started their own company, Bakugou's reputation as a trigger-happy hothead had preceded him. It was why some of the media and public had been willing to turn their backs on him and any rescue efforts – **_ugh!_** \- during the time of All-Might's last stand. Even now, after he'd proved time and time again through his actions, that his job as a hero was basically his lifeblood and failure was not an option, his outward persona and no holds barred style of combat continued to bite him in the ass.

It wasn't his intent to be destructive; no matter if he'd tried not to be, it happened anyway. But apparently, saving lives and thwarting villainy wasn't good enough when a few buildings lost their windows or roofs. Or, in this case, when a house that really shouldn't have been just...had. It had been. It had been there, in the way of an otherwise foolproof strategy.

And so, because of this monkey wrench, he'd actually been forced to listen to Kirishima, for once, and let him take the lead on how to resolve this potentially toxic occupational hazard. At least the guy was more socially competent, though whether or not that was something to boast about was not quite clear in the blond's eyes.

Then, the offer. That ridiculous, hare-brained, in the moment, impulsive, nonsensical, unbelievable, unethical – he could go on and on! The point was, it wasn't an option! No matter how desperate he was to fix things, he was not about to let a complete _nobody_ , and an annoying one to boot, become personally involved in their lives, just because of a sob story and hero's honor! It only extended so far, and this situation did _not_ meet those qualifications! He'd been ready to just say "Screw it!", bash his partner over the head hard enough to induce amnesia, send the airhead to the moon with a well-placed and properly charged up blast at her feet...

...when she'd. Said. **_Yes_**. Now, Kirishima was cheering and jumping, as though a death sentence itself had been lifted from him. In Bakugou's case, it was only just beginning. He was agape, like a particularly bulgy-eyed goldfish out of water, as the brunette – Uraraka, right? - was bowing rapidly in response, babbling a flurry of gratitude and promises.

"Thank you so much for your - your kind offer! I may not be the most familiar with your line of work, but I'll – I'll do my very best to be of use to you! And I will take care of your lodgings as though they were my own!" Although the acknowledgement towards the temporary stay was appreciated, it still didn't change the fact that she couldn't work for them, and _**no way in Hell was she going to live with them!**_ Finally pulling himself together, Bakugou rounded on the pair with a fresh fury.

"No _fucking_ way!" The pitch of the yell that had come forth from his lips was enough to make both Uraraka and Kirishima jump. Bakugou was back, and damn it, but he wasn't about to let reason and sanity go down the way of the dodo without a fight!

Fixing both with an arresting crimson stare, he let loose with an army of logic and fact, things which mere emotion and haste couldn't ignore. "One, she's a civilian, and we've done the extent of our jobs here! We are _not_ gonna hold the hands of every little brat that can't fend for themselves!" Sure, he remembered what she'd said about going on the streets. He didn't think it was safe, but if that was her choice, then fine. She was old enough to understand the dangers, and if she didn't, she'd learn soon enough. Then maybe she'd get herself on track to actually finding a solution that didn't require expecting handouts from people who had bigger and better things to be focusing on.

Two fingers held up. "Secondly, if she can't even fend for herself in a battle, what on Earth makes you think she'd be able to handle even basic office shit associated with our line of work?! It's obvious she has no idea what goes on in the hero world – this whole damn situation, for starters! Hell, I don't even know if she even truly understands the concept of a real job!"

Uraraka had been wincing before, but the glower was beginning to return to her features. A glint was in her eye as she retorted "I clock in six twelve-hour shifts a week waitressing at my restaurant downtown. Don't talk like you're the only ones who stay on your feet regularly." Yes, she was bristling a bit. She may not have been saving lives, but she was helping the populace in her own way. And how was she thanked for it? By being demeaned, harassed, and even vomited on, all for a meager paycheck that just barely got her by, month after month.

At hearing her reply, Kirishima took in a sharp breath. **_Yikes_**. Hero or not, those were some ridiculous hours. And she'd already said it didn't pay well. If Bakugou had thought she was lazy before, hopefully this would be enough to change his mind on that assumption, at least. Glancing over at said male, the redhead felt his heart sink slightly at the look on his face.

Bakugou was sneering in exasperation. "Oh, yeah! That _really_ puts you at the top of the pile for being able to keep up with us! Food service is _nothing_ to brag about! Hell, _I've_ been in food service - _when I was in school!_ You may as well be a janitor, for all the 'skills' you'd bring to the table!"

Throwing up his hands, he let out a barking laugh, heavy with breath and emphasis. "All this, and we don't even have the space! Space for a completely useless extra who's just gonna get in the way!" Returning his glare to an equally fuming Uraraka, both parties were immediately cut off from any further contact as, once more, Kirishima got between them. The expression to his features was markedly different from when he'd first offered the suggestion, though.

"Bakugou. **Knock it off**." The hardness to his tone caught the blond off-guard, if only for a moment. Even Uraraka was startled. Kirishima was usually one of the most cheerful, laid-back guys Bakugou knew. Sickeningly so, in fact. Whether he liked it or not, the redhead was doggedly determined to make a stand here. Why, he didn't know. What was so special about this girl?

Looking towards the ruins of the house, he began to speak. Well, at least he'd be getting an explanation, hopefully. "Everybody starts from somewhere. We weren't just born heroes. We had to work to become who we are now. It's the same for anyone else in life. No matter the outcome, we're all moving toward something. And we don't get to look down on others just because we're on a different path."

It took a few moments before the blond was able to wrangle his thoughts together. Begrudgingly, Bakugou was willing to agree with this bit; perhaps he had been just a tad harsh in his criticisms here. At least Uraraka was working at something, and harder than he would've first pegged her for. It wasn't anything to brag about, but it was still a job. Menial, but offering a paycheck, plus some sort of experience. He could give her that much credit.

"...fine. It's true. A job is a job. Can't fault someone for going out there and getting something done, whatever it might be." He followed this with a spit towards the ground at his feet.

Uraraka felt her breath catch in her throat, all earlier aggressions and comebacks fading away. Had Kirishima just stood up for her, humble though her profession may've been? And in turn, had the blond just...kind-of, sort-of... _apologized?_ Maybe...maybe, there was hope here? Perhaps Bakugou wasn't as...hostile, as he first came across? And Kirishima wasn't always going to back down when his temper flared?

The brawler was smiling again. His tone wasn't as heavy, though it was clear that he wasn't arguing without reason. He'd been thinking about this just as much as his partner had. It wasn't always the easiest thing, to put himself out there against his partner's roughness and no-nonsense stances. But, he'd promised himself when he'd first started planning for his future at UA...no matter how scary things got, he wasn't going to run anymore. He could be scared, sure. But still, he would keep moving forward. Heroes were human, after all, and fear was natural. Even at the hands of his tempermental comrade. Despite all his threats, Kirishima knew, that if he were to actually take a stand, and voice his opinions reasonably, where it truly counted...Bakugou would listen.

"We've got space. We can clear out the storage – we really need to, and anyways, some of that stuff should be in our rooms to begin with. Why do we need t'go to another just to use our computers? Just never got around to setting it up elsewhere." Bakugou wasn't quite appreciating the insinuation here; that he'd been slacking off in his own personal affairs, but again, Kirishima had a point. It wasn't big, but it'd at least be able to fit a fold-out mat, plus a few boxes, once it was cleaned. Considering the state of her house however, he was pretty sure Uraraka wouldn't be bringing that much over. So, ultimately, that was a plus.

Now that things were starting to ease up further, the peppier nature was beginning to return to Kirishima's voice and mannerisms. "Basically, our place is your place! Feel free to come and go as you please – just, no crazy parties, no crazy guests. Gotta keep our privacy, y'know?" A wink, followed by "And it's not as though our accounting work is that bad – it's only the two of us, so you shouldn't have that many reports to go through!"

He started to chuckle. "Unless, you've _really_ been ignoring that paperwork, eh Zero? Then, I do _not_ envy her job at all." Bakugou couldn't even begin to get angry at the redhead being so open with their residence, much less call him out on the nickname, when his work ethic was, yet again, being questioned! He was not lazy! Filing and reports could just take the longest fucking walk off of the shortest pier – and with a few cement blocks too, for good measure. He wasn't 'ignoring' it, he was taking away its power over him by not giving it the attention it craved. Then he could focus on other, more important things, like kicking ass and taking names.

Or, was it "Take no prisoners, take no shit"?

Before Bakugou could object to anything though, his thoughts were interrupted by a soft, sweet giggle. Well. There was no way in hell that Kirishima could've made that sound, so it must've come from... _her_. Uraraka. The stranger-turned-victim-turned-antagonist, who was ultimately shaping up to be one of the greatest challenges in his adult life. Not evil masterminds, or genetic mutations, or run-of-the-mill thugs and thieves. No...

A new roommate and colleague. Yeah, there - he'd said it. Didn't mean he had to like it. He already knew she was going to push all of his buttons, and them some. Whether she'd been a guy or still a girl, it didn't matter. This was just a part of who she was. It wasn't going to get any better from here.

"I know...that this is all so unexpected, but, for what it's worth...I'm glad that I met you both." Even as shaky and uncertain as the future seemed, it was true. Uraraka could've met any number of heroes tonight, and while she could probably safely say they wouldn't have reacted in the same manner, she was also pretty certain that they wouldn't have necessarily been willing to go this out of their way just to make things right. Bakugou may've been protesting before, but it seemed as though he'd finally reached his limit, and was gradually beginning to accept this new reality, one shared between the three of them.

Hey, if she could actually get through all the reports that Kirishima kept mentioning, maybe she could prove herself to be at least a little less useless to the blond? That was a thought.

As Kirishima was about to acknowledge her words, Bakugou proceeded to stomp up the few steps, until he was directly in her space and face, towering over her once more. Gulping quietly, the brunette prepared to stand her ground, as he jabbed a finger at her. What sorts of insults or mockery would he assault her with verbally this time?

"One: you stay outta my way. Two: you stay outta my things. And three: don't you **_ever_** get on my case like this again! Because in the privacy of my own home, I ain't required to kiss ass and be a hero at all times! This is your only warning!" With that, he spun on his heel roughly, marching off towards the street.

Uraraka blinked a few times, trying to process what had just happened, as Kirishima walked over, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "In Bakugou-speak, that means: welcome to the family!" Another chuckle. "It's a bit of a madhouse at times, but we wouldn't have it any other way. Hope you can keep up!" Letting go, he headed off, to converse with his partner one more time before the rest of the authorities showed up. The sirens were already drawing closer, being carried on the night wind.

As she gazed towards the wreckage of her home a final time, Uraraka thought silently to herself: _I hope I can, too._ Just what exactly had she signed herself up for?

 **…...**

Everything else seemed to fly by in a blur of colors, voices, and faces. The police and a few other heroes had shown up shortly after all the arrangements had been made – some high-ranking ones, at that. Even if she didn't know all the names, she recognized the faces from the few news reports or headlines she'd caught here and there. They'd been talking with the pair of males for quite some time after they'd gone through the basic rundown with the officers.

During a few instances, Uraraka was witness to some _major_ shouting – huh, so Bakugou wasn't the only one with a loud potty mouth – some good solid whacks to the head – oh, Kendo would've been proud – and lastly, a whole lot of bowing and apologizing from both parties. To actually hear the blond cough up a "Sorry", raspy, slow, and strained as it may've been, was something else entirely.

However...although she hadn't received one herself, Uraraka had to admit, the acknowledgement she'd gotten from Bakugou earlier, seemed almost more...genuine, than what he was offering here? Not quite so much like he was going through the motions, as it were. If that were the case, then those hits to the cranium weren't doing much of anything; he was already well familiarized with this song and dance.

The pace had begun to pick up, with more figures trying to sniff around; a few were chased off, so Uraraka supposed they must've been either curious onlookers, or nosy media types. It was almost guaranteed that this would be winding up on the news, she just didn't know in how much detail. Hopefully, not enough to properly identify her. She'd already been asked about being in the spotlight on record, after having to explain her role in things and her interactions with the pair, and she'd respectfully declined. Most likely, they'd assured her, a cover story would be fabricated, to protect her privacy. She could effectively consider her new arrangements something akin to 'Witness Protection', seeing as the enemy tonight hadn't just been an average, everyday assailant.

As they'd continued to survey the scene and gather any and all evidence they could, including the Noumu's corpse – currently, a handful of officers were searching for its head – Uraraka had been approached by a trio of rescue heroes. They were aware that she'd be staying with the duo, and as such would need to pick up whatever could be safely salvaged from the remains. Since there were no visible injuries or trauma, once she'd been looked over by the EMTs on site, she'd be good to go. It'd take a tad longer to patch up the fighting duo, but it could be done. For now, she was just picking at the remains of her former life, what once had been.

Thanks to a hero with a stretching Quirk, a heavy lifter, and one who could hover, Uraraka was able to retrieve her work uniform, along with a few sparse clothing pieces and toiletries, followed by her purse and phone - oh, and Satou's doughnuts from the morning, like hell she would let those go to waste in her soon to die, if not already dead fridge. Amazingly, these few things had managed to survive through the chaos. Everything besides that wasn't worth going for; she'd have to find a way to replace it for her temporary time away. How she was going to get the money for that, she didn't know, since she'd already been planning to save as much as she could for the repairs. Hopefully, with the second job coming in, she'd have a little extra she could use, perhaps at a thrift shop or online.

Until that time came however, this was as good as it was going to be. Making sure to scoop up the two articles from the shrine as well, Uraraka had been driven into the city, until they'd reached a small lit up location on a rather clustered, darkened street. Many buildings were tightly packed together, though her attention wasn't really focused on anything other than the weight of her body, and her belongings in a bag, swinging from her hands.

It was only well after the transport had driven away and Kirishima had called out to her, that she'd realized they'd had their own car. Momentarily surprised by this, she'd managed to clamber into the backseat, as the redhead hopped behind the steering wheel. Dang, those hero medics were something else. Sliding in beside him was Bakugou, brooding silently. Now all the lights were out, save for the streetlamps. Starting the engine, they pulled away from the curb.

The drive was uneventful and quiet. Uraraka had been staring out the window, watching the scenery blur with the speed. A couple of times, she'd glanced towards the front – only to unexpectedly lock eyes with a smoldering vermilion stare. Looking back quickly towards the glass, she'd only been able to vaguely guess as to what thoughts could've possibly been going through his mind at the time.

Soon enough, the car came to a stop in an underground garage. Uraraka realized as she stepped out that this was for an apartment complex; they didn't have their own place entirely. If they were able to afford at least three rooms though, then it came with something of a price tag. Even with the perks of hero business, that was impressive for a couple of guys who were apparently still considered fledglings.

She followed behind them, casting a numb, tired gaze over the crisp and clean surroundings, paired with a black-and-white layout. After a smooth ride up five floors – the building had eight – they were standing in front of a large, if slightly blackened and dented door. Unlocking the knob, the trio walked in.

Again, the color scheme was mainly monochrome, though there were a few splashes of color here and there. The throw blankets on the couch, for one. The rugs, for another. A couple of posters tacked up on the walls – that had to be Kirishima's doing, since they seemed to be cheerily fitness-related. Oh, can't forget the punching bag and mat in the far corner. And the scattered boxes plus empty bottles on the table and countertop. Also, mail. _Lots_ of it.

She'd been seated on the couch, and told with a wink and a nod to "Just relax, and don't worry about a thing – we'll take care of all the heavy lifting." Uraraka was barely making it herself from Point A to Point B; exhaustion was rapidly catching up to her, and her eyes were becoming just as heavy as everything else. She knew they'd mentioned setting up a fold-out bed before. Did they already have it? Or were they going to have to buy it? That hadn't seemed quite as clearly answered to her.

If they were going to purchase one just for her, she'd have to put a stop to it. She could sleep straight on the floor just fine until she could afford one herself...whenever that might've been. Another thing to add to her list, once she'd gotten the repair finances and budget worked out. Clothes, and a mat. Unless she couldn't stop them, then...she'd be paying them back for the cost of it instead.

Oh hey, what about rent? They weren't seriously going to just let her stay here for free, right? Sooner or later, that'd have to come up. Perhaps they hadn't mentioned it right away because of the current situation? Or because everyone had been so on-edge. Maybe. Uraraka's thoughts were getting slower and more muddled, as she gradually lowered herself further onto the couch. Mmm...hey, this was pretty comfy. Not too soft, not too hard. Just right. Not the same as the one from home, but...

The sounds of shuffling, shifting, thudding, general conversation, laughter, and a steady stream of swearing, courtesy of one blond bomber, faded away into a muffled white noise, as once more, the soft siren of sleep called to Uraraka and her weary being. She was out cold before her bag fell to the floor with a faint thump and rustle.

 **A/N: ...and there you have it. The conclusion to this crazy night of battles and scars, paving the way toward a new existence nobody could've imagined possible. Who knows what this new intertwined life will lead to, for all of them? Only time - & my Writer's Muse - will tell.  
**

 **Hopefully, the interactions here weren't too off the mark? I'm worried about Bakugou coming across as too confrontational & unreasonable, while Kirishima is getting perhaps a bit too much cast into the 'good cop' role? I know Bakugou would most likely be adverse to a situation like this, but...I don't want him to only come across as a raving hothead. Like I said, I'm trying to balance out my issues w/his character while still doing him justice here, so if there's anything I need to chance, please tell me.**

 **Also, Uraraka. I'm hoping her reactions & thought processes relating to all of this aren't too far-fetched? Ultimately, she strikes me as a survivor. No matter how heavy the load, she continues to push on, & move forwards. And I think, I could see her being adaptable to a variety of situations; it may take a little while to adjust, but I can't see her rejecting something outright, unless it's truly something questionable. And I think she has a good enough sense of what that would entail.**

 **Apologies for the delay in updates. Finally got internet back at my place, so that helps on the one end. On the other, though...I'm SERIOUSLY struggling w/Writer's Block on this story. I know what I want it to contain - hell, I even have an idea of how the ending should go! - and even how I want the next Chapter to start. I just can't...figure out how to get those ideas to the page, to start them off. Or what else to fill in, to get to all the adventures & moments I had in store here for this tale. It's just...frustrating, right now. If anyone has any advice, or would be willing to just talk fic, send a PM my way.**

 **As always, feedback is welcomed, encouraged & appreciated. I hope that this story is still enjoyable, my personal hangups aside. I'm trying my best, I promise. Just...I need to figure out how to turn my 'best', into my "PLUS ULTRA!" best. Eheh...**

 **Until next time, take care everybody. Happy Halloween, here's your trick or treat. [I hope this is a treat?]**


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